Akin To Sin
by No 0ne
Summary: Yuna's Eternal Calm is in full swing and peace reigns, but when a strange man washes up on Besaid's sandy shores, Spira's shaky political climate slowly begins to dissolve into war. COMPLETE Author Note: Sequel now in progress. See new chapter.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter 1 - Prologue  
  
The thumping of the helicopter's rotor seemed all too distant to me. I could smell nothing but the musky odor of the dark paint I had smeared all over my face. In my hand was the M4 assault rifle, a staple of almost every military branch in the United States. The gun was so light I could've used two at once, one on each arm. Uncle Sam liked his protocol and procedures though...as well as his wallet. To keep accuracy at a maximum and cost at a minimum, soldiers were told what they'd be outfitted with, to hell with their personal preferences.  
  
"You do what you're told, soldier. That's it."  
  
That line had been spouted millions of times in Basic Training. I do what I'm told, and that's all. And it was true. Sergeant Charles Weston did what he was told, yes he did. The fiasco in Columbia had gotten Sergeant Charles Weston demoted, yes it had. But the Army needs its special ops guys, yes it does. So Sergeant Charles Weston was taken off "tater duty" and put on one of the first helicopters to Hong Kong after San Francisco disappeared under the morning fog. Sergeant Charles Weston had to take the fight to the new enemy, an enemy Sergeant Charles Weston knew would be the death of him.  
  
But Sergeant Charles Weston does what he's told, so when he got his orders to mobilize with the 1st United States Special Forces Operational Detachment - Delta...or simply, Delta Force...Sergeant Charles Weston mobilized.  
  
And now I'm here, riding in a bumpy Black Hawk helicopter, a rather old model, with twenty-four other men. A large group for a SpecOps mission, for sure. I had a feeling our lovely Captain would inform us of the true nature of the mission when we landed.  
  
The red "ready" light shone into the darkness, highlighting the men I'd be fighting with. Most looked rather battle-hardened, but then again, that might've been from the bumpy, stomach-churning ride. The jump door was opened and the dense urban jungle that was China's largest city blurred under us like a multi-colored ocean.  
  
I stole my eyes off of the eye-numbing scenery and checked my weapon. I released the magazine from its catch and made sure the shells inside were properly aligned. I didn't want a jam if a firefight broke out. Satisfied, I slammed the magazine home, the clicking sound echoing in the cabin of the helicopter. Not one of the soldiers jumped. Good sign.  
  
I then checked my rucksack, which was slung on my belly. Most of the other guys had it on their backs, but I didn't like the seventy pounds hanging off of my back. Besides, no one seemed to care and always having it at the ready was useful. The only problem would be lack of stealth. If I had to sneak around, I'd just leave the blasted thing somewhere. If I go into stealth mode, all I need is my silenced USP Tactical -which is not standard issue but a gun paid for by my meager salary- and an eight-inch blade.  
  
Speaking of my USP, I pulled the lightweight forty-five caliber pistol from my thigh holster and checked its action. The action was very fluid, so I took a magazine from my utility belt and slammed it home. Again, no one in the helicopter flinched. Very good sign. I thumped the safety latch upwards and returned the beautiful weapon to its home. I snapped the grip-strip over the handle and made sure it was secure.  
  
"You must really love that gun, Weston."  
  
I looked up. The Captain was smiling at me in almost a fatherly way.  
  
A bit embarrassed, I responded meekly, "I'd make love to it if I could, sir."  
  
This roused a few laughs from the men.  
  
"I bet you would, Sergeant."  
  
And with that, the silence returned, accompanied only by the thumping rotor.  
  
As I sat back against the metal wall behind me, I closed my eyes and immediately saw the snapshot the Army reporter assigned to my Columbian mission had taken right when I had learned my entire squad was being demoted and shipped off to Fort Bragg with potato peelers and a truckload of shame. But of course it was the squad's fault. Yeah...even though it had been our Sergeant's curiosity which had eventually left an entire sweatshop, thought to be a cocaine plant, rotting. The squad was only following orders from a ranking officer. Yeah, but he gets promoted and I get the boot. Now that is justice. Justice the American way. I love it.  
  
I opened my mouth and leaned forward, eyes squinted. I had a feeling I was mimicking that photo shown in every newspaper ever printed to a "t." Damn I really hated my country some times. Even if I was serving it at that time...I could still hate it. And I did.  
  
But that was beside the point, but not because I was worried about this mission. No, I knew this mission would end in disaster. What I was worried about was the rappelling part of the mission. You see, they hadn't bothered to train me in rappelling from a helicopter. I had a feeling they hadn't trained any of the other new Delta Force members in the Black Hawk with me. As the green "go" light illuminated our dirty faces, I wondered what the other men were thinking.  
  
The rappelling was relatively easy. My hands didn't think so, though. Good thing I had hastily put my gloves on. Otherwise, I'd be a very malfunctioning soldier. Friction burn from a twenty-gauge rope is nothing to laugh at, kids. No siree.  
  
Some poor fellow named Smithe wasn't so lucky. Two seconds into the operation and we were already down a man. Just great. The area we had landed in was a large grassy patch hidden by a few trees, a concrete plain with a large fountain directly on the other side. Behind that fountain was a wide, but not tall, glass and steel structure that could only be Ung-So Incorporated's building. Ung-So, for your information, was China's largest biotechnological research facility. I could only see the top of this building  
  
But, of course, I could imagine the hastily prepared fortification that looked like it was made of mud. More than likely, it was made of some sort of high-tech plastic polymer that could be sprayed into molds and mass- produced. When this polymer dried, it was as hard as twenty-inch thick lead. The Army had its own version of this ready-made fort. That meant one well-placed bunker-buster could take care of it. Unfortunately, we didn't have air support. Even though I couldn't see it, satellite photos in our briefing papers had shown it very clearly a few feet from the fountain.  
  
The three men that made up the squad I was supposed to lead formed a nice little ring-around-the-rosy circle around me.  
  
"Who are you guys," I asked. Sure, I should've gotten to know them from the Squad assignment sheet in the briefing pack and the short list of accomplishments that detailed each man's career...but this was put together very fast. And from the looks of the other squads, introductions were the order of the day. Apparently, none of the other leaders had had the time to look over the details. This made me feel a little bit better.  
  
The large black man standing directly in front of me saluted and said as quickly as possible, "Alonzo Thompson, sir!"  
  
I nodded in response and turned my attention the short, tanned man beside him.  
  
He responded to the nod in a heavy Spanish accent. "Javier Sanchez, sir!"  
  
His lack of salute didn't bother me. The last guy, a rather stout Italian fellow picked up the trend and didn't even wait for my eyes to meet with his. He snapped a salute and yelled, loud enough to interrupt the other squad leaders in their routine. "Anthony Bergman, ready to serve, sir!"  
  
"Good. Let's huddle around the Captain and get the gritty details."  
  
I turned on my heel and walked the few feet to the Captain, my men following obediently.  
  
Soon, the rest of the squads joined the huddle and the Captain began to lay out the details.  
  
"Ok, men, here's the deal. We're here to gather intel on some new form of weapon the Chinese are supposed to be developing at Ung-So. Word has it that this new weapon, if activated, could be more destructive than nuclear weapons could ever dream of being. That, gentlemen, is not easy on the heart. Speculation out of Army Intelligence says it was this same weapon that turned San Francisco into a large crater in the span of less than thirty minutes. You saw the news broadcasts. Nothing was left but dust and ruins. If this weapon is here, we're going to find a way to destroy it before it has a chance to destroy our country and others.  
  
"Now, we've got six four-man squads. Squad leaders are Mills, Gardner, Sheldon, Weston, Jackson, and Sheridan. Mills' squad will flank the bunker to the right. Gardner, your squad will lay suppression fire from this position. Sheldon's squad has the bunker's right flank. Weston's squad, when the shooting starts, make your way to the fountain on the double-quick. Once there, secure it and then protect it. Jackson's squad shares your objective. Sheridan, your men will be with me. Once the flankers are in position, we'll head straight for the damned thing. Got it?"  
  
The squad leaders and I acknowledged the orders and, even though they probably had heard them, relayed the orders to our men.  
  
The Captain then looked to the wounded Smith, who was still grunting and groaning about his shredded palms.  
  
"Jackson, your squad will take Smith to the fountain."  
  
Jackson, a five-foot seven black man nodded his head with a sigh. I didn't blame him. Smith was only going to slow his squad down. I was glad my squad didn't have to keep him.  
  
"Ready? On my mark," the Captain said, holding a fist into the air.  
  
At this gesture, Mills' squad filed into a v-shaped formation to the left, Sheldon's squad doing the same to the right side of the Captain. Gardner and his men moved into crouched firing positions, rifles ready to assault the front of the bunker. From this distance, I doubted the fire would be of any help, but it'd at least keep the flanking squads from having to deal with too much enemy fire. Jackson nodded to me and I took the meaning behind his gesture. His squad filed in behind Mills', my squad and me filing in behind Sheldon and his men.  
  
The Captain looked at the readied squads and opened his fist, mouthing the word, "Go."  
  
At that, Gardner's squad filled the air between them and the bunker with a steady stream of lead, the sounds from their rifles filling the silence of night. Mills and Sheldon both began in a dead run in their respective directions, Jackson and me falling in behind them. The two flanking squads were running full speed, their rifles at eye level, scanning every direction, looking for the enemy. A moment later, the suppression fire stopped.  
  
That didn't really bother the flankers though. When the bunker was beside us, Sheldon as his men darted to the right, charging the right side of the small fortification and jumping through the window. I imagined Mills' squad had done the same thing, almost at the same time. Jackson and his men joined mine and we made a dead run for the fountain, which was left utterly defenseless.  
  
One thing struck me as odd as we neared the fountain. I heard no gunfire from inside the fortification. That made me feel a bit uneasy, because I was fully expecting to hear the exchange of gunfire. I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the fountain. The men and I spread ourselves around the right side of the circular structure, Jackson and his squad taking the left side. After a minute or so of scanning, we saw no immediate threats and formed a perimeter, a rifle pointed in every feasible direction.  
  
Still, no gunfire came from the bunker. I kept my eye on it as I was facing it anyway, as was Jackson, who was directly beside me. Instead, Sheldon, Mills, and the men they were directing filed out of the bunker and surrounded it, forming a perimeter as we had around the fountain. From the trees in the distance came the rest of the men, Gardner and Sheridan's squads, as well as the Captain. They were walking and scanning, the Captain not even bothering to raise his weapon.  
  
The Captain yelled to no one in particular, "I think they've gotten the hell out of Dodge."  
  
It looked that way to me too. No resistance for such a prized research facility? Something was up, and I didn't like it.  
  
The Captain then yelled, "Jackson, Weston. Lead your squads around the building. Make sure everything's clear up. Sheridan, clear down. Mills, Sheldon. Clear left and right. Gardner, take the bunker and anything inside. Might be some nice mementos in there."  
  
Jackson and I took our squad around the wide building, not finding a single piece of resistance. It was rather disheartening, actually.  
  
When we returned, Sergeant Gardner was talking to the Captain. I told my squad to return to the fountain and I headed towards Gardner.  
  
"Something wrong," I asked, holding my rifle to my chest, muzzle facing the ground to the side of my left foot.  
  
Gardner nodded and answered me in his nasally voice. "Yeah, there certainly is. The bunker's full of .50 cal machine guns, RPGs, mortars, the works. And it's all there, in working order. We can use it, if need be. Don't look like we have a need though, does it?"  
  
I shook my head. "Everything's clear up. Not a damned thing around that building. I'll bet on the odds of not a damned thing being in the building either."  
  
Gardner shrugged. "Weird, eh? Just kinda up and left, didn't they?"  
  
The Captain grunted and we turned our attention towards him. He was a stocky fellow, about my own height -roughly six-two- but much older. Probably approaching mid-forties.  
  
"No sense in trying to guess why they're not here. They aren't, and that makes our job easier. They might be in that building though, so we've got to clear that too."  
  
I nodded. "I'm game, sir."  
  
Gardner nodded. "Me too."  
  
"Gardner, you stay in that bunker. Set up the machine guns and have them pointing from every hole. We'll keep this position until further orders arrive."  
  
Gardner saluted and turned on his heel, already barking orders to his men inside the bunker.  
  
The Captain watched as he walked off and then turned his eyes to me. "Think Jackson'll be up to it too?"  
  
I shrugged. "Maybe. Want me to get him?"  
  
"Go ahead. I'm going to see if Sheldon and Mills are apt to join you."  
  
"Will do, sir," I replied, giving a curt salute. Don't really know why. The Captain never returned them.  
  
I made my way back to the fountain, where Jackson, his men, and all of my men save Sanchez were sitting on the outer lip of the stonework. Jackson looked up at me.  
  
"Something new?"  
  
"Cap'n wants us to clear that building," I replied, pointing towards the structure behind the fountain.  
  
Jackson looked over his shoulder nonchalantly, grunting a not so surprised "alright."  
  
"That, and something odd with the bunker." I added.  
  
He turned his attention back to me. "Yeah?"  
  
"It's stock full of supplies, completely usable. The guys manning it ran off and ran off fast. Odd."  
  
"Yeah," Jackson repeated, not really caring. "So," he began, looking around at the men, "you guys ready to clear out that building?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm bored." It was Sanchez. The other men grunted their approval and stood up almost in unison.  
  
Sheldon and Mills were sashaying towards us. I assumed the Captain had convinced them to join us.  
  
Mills grunted as he passed me and started to talk with Jackson. I would've been able to pay attention, but Sheldon caught my attention.  
  
"We got suckered into joining you guys. How do you wanna do this, since you're so 'game?'"  
  
I shot him a look of dissaproval before I turned around to the men.  
  
"Alright, I guess I better figure out a plan."  
  
"Might help," Mills said, not bothering to look my way.  
  
"Jackson and I will take the second floor. I'm assuming that's where most of the computer networks will be. My PDA has a SPYder linkup module, so I'll be able to tap into and send all of their network data to one of our satellites. I'll take east wing, Jackson can take west. Sheldon and Mills, clear out the first floor."  
  
They nodded their approval and the squads reformed.  
  
It was a very short jog to the front doors of the building, which were electronic. A few rifle-butt hits later and those were taken care of. The front lobby had nearly twenty metal detectors, all of which were off. As a matter of fact, I think most if not all of the power was gone from the building. That might hinder my data extraction...  
  
Sheldon and Mills split their squads and started the clearing procedure. Jackson split from me and took the stairway at the left of the lobby. I lead my squad up the right set of stairs.  
  
The building it self seemed rather normal for a research facility. The second floor was nothing but offices and server rooms. Thankfully, the power to the second floor hadn't been cut. None of the computers had been tampered with either, making my job extremely easy.  
  
We went from room to room, kicking in the locked doors and quickly moving from one corner of the rooms to the other, never encountering anything but dust and hot computer terminals. It seemed like whoever had been in this building had left it a while ago.  
  
After confirming that the east wing was secure, and that I had stolen and sent all the information on the network, we met back up with Jackson's group in the lobby. Sheldon and Mills' squads were there too.  
  
Jackson nodded to me. "They found something. Might be that weapon."  
  
"And?"  
  
"You'll see. Alright, Mills, let's go see that thing."  
  
Mills nodded and lead the way, the squads breaking to form a mismatched gaggle of soldiers acting more like kids who were waiting in line at the freak show. In a way, that's what we were.  
  
Mills lead us through a long, gray hallway, nothing on either wall save metal plating. I assumed this must be lab area. All of the pipes, computer terminals, electronic doors, and ventilations shafts gave it away.  
  
When Mills arrived at the large, steel double doors at the end of the hallway, he punched in a few numbers and the doors slid out of the way. What I saw inside was nothing short of amazing.  
  
The room itself was a large tank, a glass dome covering a pool roughly the length of three football fields and as wide as an entire city block. No wonder the building was so damned wide looking on the outside.  
  
Under the glass dome was a rather unpleasant looking brown mass of...some substance. I wasn't even going to begin to try to recognize it. This brown mass looked like it was making a tight fit inside of the dome, so I gathered that whatever this thing was, it was not small, and probably as deadly as rumored, if not more so.  
  
I looked to Mills. "Any idea what it is?"  
  
"Not a damn thing. I have a feeling we're not supposed to know. Intel probably already does. Ya know how it goes, Weston. Soldiers aren't supposed to know any of the details. They're just supposed to do what they're told."  
  
"I know, I've heard that line quite a few times."  
  
"I bet you have," he responded curtly. "That sidearm must get you a lot of flak."  
  
I shrugged. "Not as much as it could. No one seems to notice."  
  
"Or care. There's a war on."  
  
"True. Think we should plant some C4 in here and get rid of this thing. In that line of thought, do we even have enough to cover this thing?"  
  
Mills shrugged. He stood on tiptoe to look over me and at the men milling about the entrance to the tank. "Lemme ask my demo man. Hey, Barnes. Over here."  
  
A stout but short man made his way over. "Yeah, Sarge?"  
  
"How much C4 do you have in that pack of yours?"  
  
"About twenty pounds. Why?"  
  
"Think that'd blow this tank up?"  
  
"If you can find me the oxygen tanks, which I'm sure are in a lab like this, I can take the whole building out."  
  
The sergeant nodded towards his underling, scratching at his chin. "Would that take care of our rather large problem under that glass dome?"  
  
"Anything inside the building will be obliterated, sir."  
  
"Good deal, Barnes. Take Murphy and Stevens and find those oxygen tanks. If you can't find any, report back to me and we'll figure something out."  
  
The demolition expert saluted and jogged back towards the men.  
  
I turned to Mills. "If they can't find any tanks?"  
  
"We'll blow this room and whatever happens, happens."  
  
"Sounds fair," I said, nodding.  
  
A few minutes later, Barnes returned with a smile on his face. Mills guessed the men had found the tanks.  
  
"Find the tanks, Barnes?"  
  
"'Tanks', sir, is an understatement. We're talking wall-sized silos of oxygen. We tested a pump to make sure. Charges are planted, they'll go off whenever we tell them too. Might have to be a ways away."  
  
"Will that little field we landed on be far enough away?"  
  
"Probably..." Barnes replied, scratching at the back of his head.  
  
"Well," Mills said, turning to me, "want to get out of here?"  
  
I nodded. "Might as well. Mission is over once we blow the building."  
  
Mills nodded in return, waving his arm in a circular motion. "Ok men, let's get out of here. Time to complete this mission."  
  
Audible cheers were heard as the men gathered into a large line. Mills and I took the lead and led the men outside into the plaza.  
  
The Captain, who had been at the bunker, jogged to us. Mills and I saluted, but the Captain didn't return it. "How about it, boys?"  
  
"C4 is planted, ready to take out the weapon."  
  
"Good."  
  
I added, "We'll need to get into our landing field so that we're safe from the blast."  
  
The Captain nodded. "Gardner and his men should be safe in the bunker."  
  
Mills shrugged. "I don't know, sir."  
  
"Find out."  
  
Mills called for Barnes, who quickly stepped up and saluted towards all of us. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"Will the men inside the bunker be safe when the blast occurs?"  
  
Barnes looked the structure over a few seconds before answering. "I believe so, sir, yes."  
  
Mills waved him away. "Good, thanks."  
  
Barnes saluted us once more, only Mills and I returning it.  
  
The Captain grunted and nodded towards the landing area. "Double-time it over there, gentlemen. I'm going to inform Gardner and I will be with you momentarily."  
  
Mills and I saluted in unison and led our squads to the landing spot, Jackson and Sheldon's squads following.  
  
Once in the field, Jackson hailed me.  
  
"Yes?" I asked, walking up to him.  
  
"After this it's home, right?"  
  
I laughed. "If you call that aircraft carrier home, then yes, probably."  
  
"Good. I need to call my wife. She's due any day now."  
  
"You'll be able to call her," I said, with a smile.  
  
A few moments later, the Captain and a few stray men entered the field. Mills gave Barnes the ok. A second later, the sky was filled with light and a shockwave shook our innards.  
  
After it was all said and done, there was a large crater where the building had once been, debris littering the plaza. A few fires dotted the debris field. I supposed this was as good a landing beacon for our EVAC as anything.  
  
The Captain jogged towards the bunker and entered it, chatting with Gardner. The rest of the men, including myself, milled around a bit, talking about nothing and calming our tensed muscles from the mission we had just completed.  
  
Or so we thought.  
  
It first started as a rumble. Then it was a loud shrieking. After that...it appeared, as large as a city block...flying in the air.  
  
When I first saw it, it reminded me of a large humpback whale. But as it turned its large head, I could see millions of eyes rolling around in its flesh, like the eyes of a spider. They weren't compound eyes, but separate organs all moving in different directions. The skin tone was brown, a deep dark brown that could've been black had the creature not been lit from its innards by some soft white light.  
  
To say I was scared was an understatement. I was petrified. I literally could not move. Neither could anyone else. Even when this large, insect/whale hybrid flying thing started to glow a bright white. Even as it opened its mouth and even after the bunker was turned to dust, Captain and Gardner's squad with it, we couldn't move.  
  
But when it started to lower itself towards us, our feet found the power to move, and we ran. Ran as fast as we could. There was no such thing as "fighting back." Fighting back was impossible. We all knew that.  
  
This weapon, whatever the hell it was, was something a few soldiers could not handle. Hell, an army probably couldn't go up against it. As I was running through the landing field, I reflected that the Chinese had abandoned it quite possibly because they had built something they couldn't control. Now, it was after me...and what was left of my fellow soldiers.  
  
I could hear its balls of energy hitting the ground and some of the men running behind me. I personally didn't care. I just wanted to survive. When I hit the wall face-first though, I knew survival was out of the question. In front of me were what remained of the Delta Force soldiers that had started the mission: Mills, Sheldon, Jackson, Sanchez, Barnes, and the wounded Smithe. They were formed in the v-shaped attack pattern, rifles raised to their shoulders. I imagined that Smithe was having quite the trouble aiming the damned thing with burnt palms. Still, the men looked courageous enough. All at once, they started firing at the behemoth in the sky. I simply watched as a large white ball of energy crashed into them, their bodies becoming mere dust in the air. I was surprised the blast didn't kill me as well, but I honestly didn't worry about staying alive. I, Sergeant Charles Weston, was about to die.  
  
"God save those who have to face this weapon..." I whispered, and raised my rifle. I fired and fired, dwindling my magazine down to probably about two or three rounds.  
  
But the creature did not shoot one of its balls of energy at me. Instead, it floated on, lower and lower until I could clearly see the lines, wrinkles, and pores of its underbelly. And I could smell it. Not very pleasant. I fired one last shot into its belly and it stopped dead in its track.  
  
Had I hit a nerve? Some secret weak point? No. I hadn't. I hadn't single handedly saved the world with one shot. No. Instead, its belly...opened...as in a hole appeared. Imagine the shutter on a camera slowly opening to snap a shot. That'd about explain it. A moment later, a sickening smell filled the air and I started to see things around me being sucked up into the creature.  
  
"Oh, great," I exclaimed, "you're a fucking Hoover, too!"  
  
No response. Hadn't expected one.  
  
As I felt my hair beginning to pull, I laughed at the thought of going out this way. Being snorted up by some bio-engineered monster weapon and becoming its first meal. Well, let me check that. I was its second. San Francisco had been its first, probably.  
  
At I lifted off of the ground, feeling as if my body was about to rip apart at the waist, I knew then I was dead. Dying, dead, same thing. And let me tell you something. Whoever said that your life passes before your eyes when you're dying was full of shit. Want to know what I saw? That goddamned picture of my skinnier, younger, greener self snapped by that Army photographer in Columbia.  
  
And then, as they say, it all went black. Or white. I can't remember.  
  
A/N - Yeah, it's a rewrite. An overdue one, in my opinion. Yes, Chapter 21 is on its way. Might take a bit longer. It'll be here before Christmas, I'm sure. Email or IM me if you wanna beta or just chat or something. Yeah. Well, hope this is better than what I had. I'll probably get around to rewriting the first few chapters (probably 2-12) after I've finished this. Not many more chapters to go.  
  
Thanks as usual to the lovely Shad for betaing this thing.  
  
Muchos of love to Arty-chan for helping me with Chapter 21, which should be realized soon ^_^;;  
  
Thanks to all the readers, old and new alike.  
  
~No 0ne 


	2. Chapter 2: The Fall

Chapter 2 - The Fall  
  
"Rikku. Don't kick so hard, ya? Well, until you can control the ball, that is."  
  
"Ok!" The blond-haired Al-Bhed waved to the tall, red-haired figure and smiled, swimming towards the floating blitzball.  
  
Wakka hmmed to himself as he sat down, feeling the sand spread beneath his large frame. He was clad in a pair of yellow shorts, since it was mid-summer, and Besaid summers were unforgiving in their relentless heat. Had his faith remained after the battle with Sin, he would have prayed to the ends of Spira for a rainstorm. Yuna, in a tasteful one-piece, walked up behind the Auroch and laid her hand on his shoulder.  
  
"How is Rikku's training going?"  
  
"She's Rikku. Hyper and a ball hog, ya? I have tonsa stuff to teach her."  
  
Yuna smiled, nodded, and headed for the water. Wakka sighed and thought of Lulu, who, as he was assured, was hiding from the heat in her hut. He smiled and looked to the sky, trying to pick out shapes in the clouds.  
  
Rikku tossed the blitzball to the former summoner, swimming slightly away from her as the young, brown-haired girl barely catched the knobby, blue and white wall. "Let's see what you can do, Yunie! Pass it to me!"  
  
"Ok," Yuna said with a smile, and tossed the ball to Rikku. With a splash, the ball sent water into the young Al-Bhed's face. Rikku laughed as Yuna bowed slightly, yelling a chuckled "Sorry."  
  
Wakka pointed to the two girls. "Hey, you two. Place nice now. Injuries aren't fun."  
  
The girls laughed and nodded, and proceeded to swim about, tossing the blitzball back and forth. Wakka smiled and reflected on how well Yuna was taking Tidus' absence, or, how well she hid her feelings about his absence. It was only a year after Yuna and her guardians had defeated Sin and Yu Yevon. A new era had been born in Spira; an era without the threat of Sin, and an era without, at least to Wakka and his friends, Yevon.  
  
Wakka turned his attention, once again, to the swimming form of Yuna. Being the leader of Spira really didn't stop her from trying to have a little fun. She even stayed and lived in Besaid until she was needed elsewhere. And for this, Wakka's respect for her grew ever more.  
  
Wakka let out an audible sigh as his train of thought once again dwelled onto the real shamble that was Spira. Even though Sin was gone, the Yevon fiasco had torn Spira's people nearly in two. Those most faithful refused to accept the truth, and still prayed to the corrupted deities. The summoner practice had been all but stopped. Those on pilgrimages stopped when hearing word. The maesters had all been properly dealt with. Still, Wakka, and -he hoped- his friends had faith in the Farplane. Rikku's pyrefly explanation hadn't really fazed the belief that one's soul went to the Farplane in death. Wakka was grateful that he could still look forward to peace in death. Faced with it so many times in the year passed, he had grown to not fear, but respect one's final rest. Even Lulu could not deny Wakka's growing maturity.  
  
With a smile, Wakka stood and walked to the shore. "Got any room for an old guy?"  
  
To this Rikku laughed, Yuna chuckling in tow. "Sure," the hyper Al-Bhed replied, "just don't get all tired on us!"  
  
Wakka smiled and thrust thumb into the air, winking to Yuna. "Think I'm to old, eh? Well, Wakka show you a thing or two!" With that, the burly islander grabbed the ball and dove into the water.  
  
--------------------------  
  
The lithe figure Lulu harbored walked hastily onto the beach. Her attire was, as Wakka had guessed, mostly consisting of black fabrics. Clad in a long-sleeve wool shirt and a pair of thin slacks, Lulu made her bare feet hop to the shore. The cool mud offered a soothing relief to her feet, seeing as the sand was burning hot. Wakka, arm around Yuna, saw her and smiled, waving an arm in the air.  
  
"Yo, Lu! Water's fine, ya? Why don't you come in?"  
  
Lulu hid her smile as she shook her head. She regained her serious countenance and glared at him. "I'd rather not. When you three are done playing, I suggest you come with me to the west end of the Island. Something is happening."  
  
Wakka, smile fading, nodded and began to swim to shore. The girls followed in suit. Wakka, quizzical look already appearing on his stubble- ridden face, stopped a couple of feet from Lulu. "Something's happening? What is it?"  
  
Lulu crossed her arms and sighed, nodding to the girls. "Let them get dressed first. I doubt they need to walk into town like that."  
  
Wakka, despite his knowing of the girls' attire, looked to them, and nodded.  
  
"Ya, would be a good idea if you two got dressed."  
  
When he turned back towards Lulu, she frowned and poked his bare chest. "You too. At least put a shirt on."  
  
Wakka sighed and shook his head, hiding a smile. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."  
  
His eyes met with Lulu's and he coughed, instantly walking around her to one of the three baskets. He pulled a white shirt from it and slipped it over his bulky torso, his muscles showing through the tightly sized shirt. Lulu tried her best not to notice, but found herself watching him as he stopped at the trail's entrance. He threw a smile her way, and she turned around quickly, cursing herself under her breath.  
  
Rikku, who was heading to her basket, heard the hushed curse. "What, Lulu?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Rikku shrugged and picked up her basket, Yuna doing the same shortly after. The two girls looked to Wakka and cocked their heads. Wakka mocked a growl and turned around. He moved to the ruined tower, which served as steps, and waited. A few moments later, the three females came, Yuna and Rikku chattering about something as Lulu tried her best not to look annoyed. Wakka climbed the ridges of the towers and walked slightly ahead of the women, trying to avoid them. Girl talk was something Wakka didn't want to hear at the moment.  
  
Wakka stopped under the waterfalls and took his headband off. His hair, save the large crest -kept up with berry juice- fell over his head, hiding most of his face and neck. It wasn't often that Wakka let his locks fall, but his hair needed to be washed of the saltwater, and there was no better neutralizer than Besaid freshwater. The girls stopped and watched as he soaked his head. Rikku laughed, while Yuna tried her best not to. Lulu simply watched, a neutral look about her features. Wakka finished and the four continued.  
  
As they entered town, they each nodded to Gatta. The Crusaders, now without a Sin to fight, were more or less the military of Spira. The riots that ensued in Bevelle once the true ways of Yevon were known were horrendous. The Crusaders helped to stop the mayhem, and to this day, are heavily concentrated in the city. A high number are also in Luca, but most of their job consists of stadium duty. Gatta was Besaid's Crusader Branch's Captain. Any fiends that inhabited the area were either his or Wakka's job. Wakka had adhered to his Blitzball retirement, and without a summoner to guard, took up fiend clean up with Gatta, although he did not join the Crusaders.  
  
In the center of town, a statue of Sir Tidus had been erected. It was crude, and to Wakka, didn't do the young man justice. Dream or not, someone should be respected with a decent likeness. As with her tradition, Yuna walked to the statue and put her hand on its base. Wakka hated to see her in such agony, but what could he do? Tidus was on the Farplane, and hadn't been truly real in the first place. Wakka shook his head and scratched at his chin.  
  
"Thinking too hard again?" It was Lulu's sometimes-harsh voice.  
  
"No, just...reflecting."  
  
Lulu nodded and sighed. "Come with me, if you're quite done 'reflecting'."  
  
Wakka nodded and the two girls followed Wakka and Lulu to the right side of the temple. Off in the distance, a rather nasty storm front raged. Lulu pointed.  
  
"It's as if it rolled in from the Thunder Plains. I fear it's not our usual storm. I sense that it brings...trouble."  
  
Wakka hmmed and looked to Yuna. "What do you think?"  
  
Yuna hmmed as well, and rested her chin on her fingertip as she looked to the large, gray cloud. "Be it trouble or not, we should warn the people. If it is indeed headed this way, I suggest we all seek shelter."  
  
Rikku, Lulu, and Wakka nodded in unison. Wakka sighed. "I'm heading back to the beach. It looks far off enough. I...need to think, ya?"  
  
Yuna nodded. "I understand. Just be back in soon, ok? I do not want you hurt."  
  
Wakka smiled and nodded, placing a hand on Yuna's shoulder. "I will."  
  
She smiled and he withdrew his hand, already headed back to the beach.  
  
Rikku tapped Yuna's shoulder. "Yunie? Is it ok if I 'seek shelter' in the temple? I'd feel safer in there than my hut..."  
  
Yuna nodded and smiled. "Why of course."  
  
Lulu leaned in to Yuna's direction. "I'm going back to my hut, then. Yuna, I'd like to see you in the temple too."  
  
Yuna smiled at Lulu and shook her head. "Don't worry so, Lulu. I will be fine in my hut."  
  
Lulu smiled half-heartedly and nodded, heading to her tent as Yuna continued to stare towards the slow moving cloud.  
  
--------------------------  
  
Wakka sighed, his back to the beach. The warmth of the sand felt good to him in the later afternoon. The sun was slowly being hidden by the cloud, and he surmised he didn't have long left until the storm hit. His thoughts were being directed not at the storm, but at Chappu. His brother had always gotten the better deals in life. Wakka was surprised when Chappu went to fight Sin. He had always felt like the lesser brother. He would never tell anyone this of course, but he was still a shadow compared to his brother. Chappu had Lulu, the looks, and the drive to be great...but Sin, like it did to everything, ended any hopes or dreams.  
  
Before long, the tears had welled up into his eyes, and rather than wipe them away, he let them fall down the sides of his face. Chappu was his best friend, and seeing Tidus had given him hope that his brother would return. For all the reasons Wakka had resented his brother, he had plenty more to love him.  
  
With the tears still flowing, Wakka sat up and leant forward, elbows on his knees, head down. The tears were hitting the sand and Wakka watched them as they formed small circles of mud.  
  
Unbeknownst to him, Lulu was standing at the mouth of the trail, watching him. She, too, had tears on her cheeks. Her sympathy towards Wakka was something her cold exterior could not hide. For every fault he had, he could make up for it with one simple look, or action. She had shared a great many experiences with him, each one bringing them closer, yet still separated. She hated the side of her that prevented her from being happy. Every day, she wished for Chappu back, but in another way, she didn't want to see his return, for the dead are best left resting.  
  
Wakka sighed once more, the tears still coming, but slower now. He slammed a fist into the sand, causing a small crater. A mumbled curse came from his lips as he raised his head and looked to the sky. The cloud was closer, and Wakka could see that it might miss the island. With a sigh of relief he lowered his head and shook it, cleaning his knuckles of sand by wiping it on the side of his shorts leg.  
  
With a soft thud, Lulu sat beside him. "You know, you shouldn't do that. It will make your clothes that much harder to wash."  
  
Wakka rolled his eyes and uttered a "Bah" before turning his gaze to the sea.  
  
Lulu sighed, and let her gaze move to the waves as well.  
  
The two sat in silence for some time. The approaching thunder and lightning only magnified the tense nature of the silence, and in time, Lulu felt compelled to speak. "What's on your mind, Wakka?"  
  
"Chappu..."  
  
She nodded, sighing. "You do realize we should try and get on with our lives. We cannot mourn forever." Her voice trailed. "We must accept death and cherish life."  
  
"I know, Lu. I know. I just keep hoping that one day, I will see my brother again." His teeth clenched as he spoke the next words. "I wish I could've taken care of Sin a long time ago. That way, I'd still have a brudda, and you'd have, more than likely, a husband to go home to."  
  
"Hush, Wakka. You mustn't wish such things. We cannot change the past, so we have to look to the future. I, myself, had to realize this...I just wish I could have done so sooner. Chappu would never want us dwelling over his death." She half-smiled at the visions dancing through her mind. "I could see him now."  
  
"Yeah, Chappu would say something like 'You two move on, now. Brudda, you guys are downers, eh?'"  
  
Lulu's smile widened a bit. "And he would proceed to push us until we did move on. He was an assertive man..."  
  
Wakka nodded, and smiled himself. "See, now this is what we have to do, ya? We have to look at the happy memories and cherish them, while we live. Otherwise, what do we have to live for, ya know?"  
  
Lulu nodded. "You seem to be correct a lot more lately."  
  
Wakka hmmed. "Well, fighting something like Sin tends to wake up the adult in you. At least, I would hope so. I still got the young'un in me, but I'm trying to mature up. Got Yuna to watch over and Rikku to entertain when she isn't working on Home."  
  
Lulu crossed her arms, nudging his shoulder with an elbow. "What happened to the Wakka I knew?"  
  
Wakka laughed. "I 'spose he's somewhere in Luca, looking for players to recruit."  
  
Lulu, for the first time in awhile, laughed too. She sighed at the feeling of laughter. It had been so long since she last felt any surge of laughter; she continued to laugh as Wakka stood, stretching.  
  
"Feels good, hearing you laugh, ya know? You need some laughter every once and awhile, Lu. Without it, you'll fall into your own self-pity...or something like that." Wakka blinked at what he'd just said, instantly regretting it as his hand came up, scratching the back on his neck, waiting to barrage.  
  
Lulu stopped laughed, but smiled up at him, nodding. "I know. I am a bit uptight, am I not?"  
  
Wakka cocked a half-smile, nodding a little. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way...but ya, you are a bit...stiff sometimes."  
  
She smiled once more and stood. Her arms wrapped around him, to his surprise, and his did so shortly after. She muttered a "Thank you" and he nodded. She released her grip on him and walked slowly to the shore.  
  
"Look at the lightning hitting the water. It's beautiful."  
  
Wakka watched her from a few feet back and mmhmmed with a nod. He too, began to watch the storm slowly going by. It was going to miss the island, but it was surely making waves.  
  
"Lu. Stand back, ya? Wouldn't want undertow to take you...under."  
  
She nodded and walked back a few feet, stopping beside him. They continued to watch the lightning as Wakka tried to find the courage to do what he felt like doing. After a few moments of inner conflict, he closed his eyes and eased his arm around her shoulders. To his surprise, he felt her cheek ease down onto his shoulder, her pinned hair tickling at his neck and cheek. He smiled and leaned into her hair, cheek resting against her scalp. She sighed contentedly and they stayed like that for quite some time, watching the storm roll by.  
  
In a whisper, Lulu said, "Do you ever think Tidus is going to come back? Yuna may look happy without him, but she isn't."  
  
He squeezed her shoulder and nodded. "I know all too well, Lu. He'll come back, I'm sure of it. Just give it time, ya? It's not like he's going to just fall from the sky."  
  
As he said these words, a large lighting bolt hit the water near the shore. Startled, the two jumped back and Wakka instinctively stepped in front of Lulu. His eyes darted to the sky as a flailing figure started to fall.  
  
A rather audible scream could be heard as the figure fell and fell, Wakka's eyes lit with surprise. As it was close to the water, the scream became distinct. It was human.  
  
With a loud splash, and the garbled end of the scream, the figure hit the water and landed on the sea floor, about twenty feet from the shore. Lulu, shocked, stood there and watched as Wakka ran forward. Wakka grabbed the shoulders of the figure and hoisted it up, to see that it was a strangely dressed man of about twenty years. His hair was a medium-brown, and his garb was very odd. It was gray, white, and black in a mottled pattern. A lot of straps and gadgets were clanging as he lifted the man. He started to pull the man up onto his shoulder, but being that the man was almost as tall as Wakka, he was finding it difficult. He wrapped his arms around the man's waist and lifted.  
  
To Wakka's bewilderment, the man coughed, spitting water towards Lulu. He thrashed about and freed himself of Wakka's grasp. Heaving and grunting, the man looked about quickly, and drew a rectangular object from a cloth satchel attached to his belt.  
  
Pointing what Wakka now knew was a machina weapon, the oddly dressed man yelled, "Who the hell are you?! Stay there or by God I'll put a goddamned bullet in your head!"  
  
Wakka blinked and immobilized himself. Lulu, still shocked, cocked her head.  
  
"What the hell are you looking at," the man growled, chest heaving quickly.  
  
Wakka cleared his throat. "Hey, now, put the machina down. We won't hurt you."  
  
The man sniffed and wiped his brow in his upper sleeve.  
  
Lulu, coming out of her daze, coughed. "Could you please put the machina away? We bring you no harm. You fell from the sky and we fear you're hurt."  
  
The man, whose green eyes were widening, grimaced and looked to his side, where a piece of glass was lodged into his thigh. He gritted his teeth and still pointed the weapon to them. "Who are you?"  
  
Wakka spoke first. "I'm Wakka." He pointed to Lulu. "That's Lulu."  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"You are in Besaid, home of Maestress Yuna," replied Wakka.  
  
The man raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Who?!"  
  
Lulu shook her head. "Don't tell me that this guy has ran into Sin..."  
  
The man once again blinked. "Sin? What the hell?"  
  
Wakka blinked. "Lu, we defeated Sin, remember?" Wakka turned his face back to the man. "Who are you?"  
  
The man blinked and seemed to think for a moment. "Private, 1st Class, Charles Weston, United States Army, Delta Force."  
  
This time, it was Wakka who blinked. "That's a long name."  
  
The man growled. "It's Charles Weston, damnit."  
  
Wakka pushed his hands down. "Calm down, bud. Just calm down. Put the machina away and we'll be fine, ok?"  
  
"Machina?"  
  
Lulu sighed. It was happening again.  
  
Wakka pointed to the black object the man was holding. "The weapon you're holding."  
  
The man blinked. "My SOCOM pistol?"  
  
The two Besaid residents blinked.  
  
The man sighed and replaced the gun back to its satchel. Wakka sighed and Lulu walked forward, looking at the man's wounds.  
  
He seemed as bewildered as they were. His eyes looked to what Lulu was doing. She stooped and took a hard look at his wounds. "This is more than a potion can handle. We'll need Yuna."  
  
Wakka came forward. "Can you walk, bud?"  
  
The man tried to step forward, but his leg gave and he fell. Wakka came on one side as Lulu got the other.  
  
Wakka nodded to Lulu and said, "Try hopping on the other leg."  
  
The man nodded and did so, successfully.  
  
"Man you gave us a scare. Maybe you knocked your head or something, and you'll remember where you're from later, yah?"  
  
The man blinked. "I'm from...the United States."  
  
Wakka hmmed. "Yeah, he hit his head."  
  
Lulu sighed. "Wakka, that still doesn't explain why he fell from the sky."  
  
The man coughed. "I don't know how I got here...but I think..." His head lolled and he passed out, leaving Wakka and Lulu with dragging him back to the village. 


	3. Chapter 3: Insight

Chapter 3: Insight  
  
A dense mist shrouded most of the two-story home, the stench of the animal pens was being carried a ways in the thick cloud. The clumping of sneakers was echoing through the hilly landscape and bouncing off of the moss-covered trees, coming back to the small ears of Charlie Weston. With small, pudgy fingers closing his nose, he made the walk up the long path leading to his home, a midwestern farmhouse. The backpack was heavy, full of the books he needed for the homework still to be completed. A light wind was in the air, blowing his bowl-cut hair to and fro.  
  
With a grunt, the child of twelve walked up the porch steps and knocked on the door, to which the screened piece of wood squealed as it moved, ajar in the door rest. With a meek "Mom? Dad?" the young boy walked into the foyer, dropping the heavy pack onto the wooden floor. His footsteps echoed as he headed to the kitchen, eyes darting about, checking for the presence of his parents. With the first floor checked, a growing nervousness struck the small figure, hands shaky as he made his way up the stairs to the second floor.  
  
Charlie's small hand ran along the banister as he quickly moved towards the upstairs computer room. Once more, only silence greeted his shaky, questioning voice. Finally, he made his way to the far end of the hall and knocked on his parents' bedroom door. It, like the front door, was ajar, and creaked slightly open at the knock. The odor that filled the young boy's nostrils immediately incited his lunch to be released the way it had gone down. Once his stomach had emptied and the bile was not coming, the boy's hand pushed the door open, the other hand busy holding his nostrils closed. The tears from the stench were still in his eyes, and he blinked them away only for more to come as he saw his mother lying on the floor, naked. The only discerning feature left on her face was her eyes. They were open in shock. The lower jaw was missing, as well as her nose. Tears and cuts were all over her body, stab wounds as well. The teary eyes of young Weston moved to the lifeless figure of his father, whose frail figure lay on the bed, a multitude of red stab wounds covering his body. Gone was the stale woody smell in the room, replaced by the metallic smell of coagulated blood. In the heat of the day, the bodies also had begun a bit of decay, adding to the already potent odor.  
  
With a cry so loud that Charlie couldn't believe it was coming from him, he ran back down the stairs. With a loud thud, he landed on the first floor and bolted out of the door, running into the nearby wheat field. After a quarter of a mile into the field, he found a man, sitting on a camping stool, cleaning a knife. Frozen with fear, young Weston watched as the man rose from the chair, eyes already on the stout young boy.  
  
"Whatcha doin here, boy?"  
  
To this, Weston did not reply.  
  
"Cat got yer tongue, eh? Well, I'll fix that."  
  
The scraggly man moved his lanky form towards Charlie, gnarled hand reaching for the young boy's. Weston felt, as the cold hand gripped his forehead, an extreme surge of anger. With a flash, his hand, now quite large and strong, gripped the wrist of his assailant.  
  
--------------------------  
  
"Ahhh!"  
  
"What the...let go of her!"  
  
Weston felt an elbow's force punch into his forehead, and he let go of Yuna's wrist. With a cringe, he sat up, rubbing the now warm spot on his forehead. He blinked the blurriness from his eyes and saw in front of him the tall, bulky frame of the oddly dressed man he had met at the beach. To the red-hair's right was the pale, lithe female he had also met at the beach. A little off to the side of the bed he was laying on was a young girl, of about eighteen, rubbing her wrist as her blue-green eyes showed a slight hint of fear. Weston sighed and rubbed his face, which, oddly, had a medium-sized beard on it.  
  
"How long..."  
  
"Nearly a week," replied the woman in black.  
  
"Holy..."  
  
The red-hair moved forward. "Listen, brudda. I understand you might be going through somethin' or what not, but don't grab Yuna like that again, ya hear? She tended to your wounds while you slept there like a baby."  
  
Weston, still not understanding the situation, nodded, and muttered an apology.  
  
"I'm not the one you need to be apologizing to."  
  
Weston turned to the girl and repeated the apology. She nodded curtly and left the hut without a word. The pale woman followed suit and left him with the red-hair.  
  
With a nod, the tanned man sat down on a stool next to the bed.  
  
"Listen, Charles or whoever you are. We gotta talk, ya? Something's going on here that Yuna just can't figure out and Lu's having a troublesome time with whatever was in that bag you had on."  
  
"Rucksack..."  
  
"Whatever. Well, we need some answers, and none of this baloney bout some sort of state. Your outfit has some odd markings on it and we need a full explanation. When you're ready, I'd like to take you to the temple and meet with the others. There, we can have a nice talk about who you are and where you come from. No funny business, ya?"  
  
Weston, whose eyes were scanning his lightly clad body, nodded and turned on the bed, bare feet hitting dirt and grass. In a raspy, tired voice, he managed, "Where's my gear?"  
  
"Your stuff's in the temple. Come on and we can get it, after that talk."  
  
Weston nodded and followed the burly redhead out into the sun.  
  
--------------------------  
  
Weston's bare feet nearly sang when they finally felt the cold marble of the temple's main hall. The tanned behemoth, now known to Weston as Wakka, led him into a small room to the right of a pair of statues. Through a heavy door, the two walked into a medium sized round room with books all over it. Sitting at the round table in the center was the pale woman known as Lulu, the girl Yuna, and the dirty blond known as Rikku. Rikku, who had yet to see the stranger from the sky, leapt from her seat, her small hand grabbing Weston's, shaking it.  
  
"Hi, I'm Rikku. Nice to meet you!"  
  
Weston nodded and sat down, Wakka sitting next to him. Rikku ran around to the side with the girls and sat. Weston recognized his rucksack, which was lying in the center of the table, contents splayed out, covering the marble.  
  
Wakka was the first to speak after a long silence filled with curious and nervous glances. "Well, we understand some of this stuff. Like the food and the water flask. But this rectangular metal object is a bit perplexing, as well as this white box. It seems to be filled with...what look like potions...I think-"  
  
Weston interrupted. "The rectangular object is a PDA, or personal digital assistant. It is a universal translator, infrared information gatherer, and well, does anything except wash my skivvies and heal wounds. The wounds part is what the white box is for. It's a first aid kit. The universal solvent for bullet wounds, scrapes, stabs, gashes, rashes, and minor abrasions. It helps you stay alive until you can get some form of medical treatment."  
  
He smiled and looked around, satisfied with his explanation. The others, however, weren't as pleased and looked rather confused. To this Weston shrugged and grabbed the PDA, flipping open its leather cover. He extracted the Stylus out of the top and turned it on. With a beep, it clicked on and he logged in as usual. "I'm glad this survived my fall...it's invaluable to a soldier."  
  
"Oh...are you a crusader?" asked Rikku.  
  
"A what? No. I'm a soldier in the United States Army."  
  
Wakka cleared his throat. "Hey, what did I say-"  
  
Weston held up his hand. "Wakka, I am who I say I am. I believe my PDA may be able to explain some things."  
  
With that, Weston opened a small window on the backlit color screen. With another beep, the screen flashed with the new information message. Weston hmmed and tapped the screen with the Stylus, making the program open the information reader. What popped up were a diagram sheet, a few pages of Chinese lettering, and a memo. Weston hmmed and pressed the translate button within the image viewer. In a few moments, the text turned into English and Weston read it quickly. After a few moments, he noticed the others becoming a bit impatient. He exited the documents and turned the small gadget off, flipping the leather cover back down. He stuffed it into the side leg pocket of his fatigues.  
  
"And what did this...PDA...just tell you?" the gruff, cold voice of Lulu inquired. Weston shrugged. "Just some intel from the mission I was on. It must have gathered as I was going through that office building. Very interesting though. Said something about a Yttrium Evolved Vehicular Organic Nucleate, which is shortened to Y-E-V-O-N. Seems that it's the driving force of what my squad and I were after. Some sort of hyper-learning AI based computer that uses organic tissue to protect itself. But that information is useless to me now..."  
  
To this, the others had the same confused, quizzical looks. Weston cleared his throat, laying his head on the stone table. "I don't think I'm getting anywhere. Just ask questions and I'll answer the best I can."  
  
Lulu, who Weston was sure had a lot of questions, spoke first. "How about the basics, then? Age, occupation, things of that sort."  
  
Weston sighed and brought his head up, eyes going to each of the people in front of him as he spoke. "I'm Charles Weston. I'm twenty-six years of age. I am enlisted in the United States Army. The United States is my country. The Army is the land-bound branch of the military. The other branches are the Navy, the Air Force, and the Marines. I am a technology specialist in a team of infantrymen. I've been on a few missions and, yes, I have killed more than my fair share of men."  
  
Lulu nodded neutrally while Yuna and Rikku cringed at the mention of killing. Wakka, while also disgusted, raised a finger. "Not to be a pest, bud, but we've never heard of a place called "United States", and we've been all over Spira."  
  
"You mean Earth," Weston corrected.  
  
"Earth?" It was Rikku who posed this question.  
  
Weston sighed and took his PDA out once more, cutting it on and bringing up a map of the world. The built in GPS, Weston noticed, had marked his position on the map. According to latitude and longitude readings, he was near Honomu, Hawaii. He blew up the map and passed the small computer to Wakka.  
  
"If you can see, this is a map of Earth, every continent."  
  
Wakka studied it and handed it to Lulu, who also studied it awhile before passing it to Yuna. Perplexed, Yuna spoke up.  
  
"This does not look like Spira...but has some resemblances..."  
  
Weston nodded. "I'll have to see a map of your 'Spira' and compare. I still don't know where the hell I am, though. I'm feeling really out of place..."  
  
Rikku chimed in. "You do look out of place!"  
  
Weston laughed. "Thanks."  
  
Wakka pointed to Rikku. "Hey, Rikku. Don't talk to him like that."  
  
Rikku rolled her eyes and mumbled a "Yes, sir."  
  
Weston laughed still, putting his head down on the table.  
  
Yuna offered the next question. "Your United States...is it under the rule of a maester?"  
  
Weston blinked, wondering why he was going to have to explain his country's government to people who spoke English and looked relatively American. "It's ruled by the people. The government is a democracy, where everyone has his or her equal political rights. A president is elected every four years. There is a Congress, where representatives from every state within the country meet to pass laws. The same goes for the House of Representatives. Each state has its own government that passes any needed laws that aren't on the national level. Taxes are also state controlled. I could go on, but I can see your faces and I'll stop here."  
  
Lulu, who had dropped her cold exterior to display a curious and somewhat puzzled look, commented, "Sounds quite complicated."  
  
"It's a large country...it has to be."  
  
Lulu nodded and looked to Yuna. Yuna seemed to get the message and turned her multi-colored eyes back to Weston.  
  
"Mr. Weston, sir, Spira's government is...nothing compared to what you're used to. I was named Maestress after defeating Sin..."  
  
It was Weston's turn to give the confused look.  
  
Yuna smiled, nodding. "I'm sure you do not know what I'm speaking of..." Weston nodded.  
  
Yuna smiled and offered some explanation. "The government of Spira is run by the Maester or Maestress, even though they have little power. I cannot stretch the arm of law and order everywhere, and ever since the religion crumbled, it has been even harder to keep control of some areas. The people of Spira are split. Those who still believe in Yevon, and those who accept that Yevon was not what he seemed."  
  
Weston looked curious. "Your religion...crumbled?"  
  
Yuna nodded. "We," she proceeded to motion her arm, including every one at the table save Weston in "we", "defeated Sin, the vehicle of death that Yu Yevon wielded as armor to keep the cycle of life and death moving. With it, he instilled his power and the fear of that power into the people of Spira."  
  
Weston hmmed. "In other words, he was a tyrant and you four took care of him in rebellion. Sounds like you did the right thing."  
  
Yuna sighed, nodding. "But still, it tore the people of Spira in two."  
  
Rikku chimed in. "And it was seven...not four..."  
  
Weston hmmed curiously. Wakka offered the explanation.  
  
"We had three others. Tidus, Auron, and Kihmari. Auron and Tidus...are in the Farplane. Kihmari has gone to Mount Gagazet to try and rebuild the Ronso tribe."  
  
To this, Weston could only nod. He'd have to learn more of this "Sin" business and more of the war that raged against it later. But then again, his mind wasn't exactly stressing on the history of this Spira and its people. He wanted to find his way home, but somehow knew that that had gone out the window the moment he woke up in a strange hut surrounded by strange people. It was just his luck to be stuck in some alternate dimension with no means of going back to his own. Of course, Weston knew he was just rambling on and on in his own mind, letting his thoughts move about rapidly, trying to explain where or when he was.  
  
"Yo, bud, wake up, ya?"  
  
Weston jumped in his chair, Rikku laughing behind a palm as he did so.  
  
Wakka hmmed. "I asked if you would like to explain this...machina you had in this satchel."  
  
"That's a holster. It houses my gun, or pistol."  
  
Yuna chimed in. "Machina...are what we call machines, or anything that does not require pure human force to make it perform an action."  
  
Weston nodded. "So you don't have computers, I take it."  
  
They all stared at him with puzzled looks.  
  
Weston laughed, shaking his head. "I thought not. Well, to tell you the truth, where I come from, our lives revolve around 'machina'. We use them to get to places, to find our way, to help us in education and entertainment, and they affect us in every facet of life. And yes, they are used in war as well."  
  
With this, Weston smiled to himself, now thinking himself to be in the past. With that, of course, came the complications of adapting to a society without advanced technology. But still, he could teach these people a thing or two, so he smiled, outwardly, to the four sitting with him at the table.  
  
Yuna and Rikku were the only ones who smiled back his way. Lulu leaned over and whispered something to Wakka, who nodded in return. The two got up and excused themselves.  
  
--------------------------  
  
"I'm torn. He sounds sincere, but if what he says is true, then he's obviously not from our time. And if that is true, then we have another Tidus on our hands. Tidus had a reason for being here, Wakka. But this Charles fellow...what's his reason for being here? We're at peace. There is no Sin and no Yevon to disturb Spira..."  
  
Wakka sighed, squinting as the afternoon sun shone into his eyes. "I know that, Lu. But, like I've always said, 'everything has a reason, Yevon or not.'"  
  
Lulu shut her mahogany eyes and sighed. "Why do these things have to happen to us? If it's not Sin, it's some traveler from some far off land or time."  
  
Wakka sighed and wrapped his arms around her thin frame, his own covering hers. She sighed and nuzzled into his stubbly cheek, reveling in the intimate nature of the embrace. For so long, she had wanted this to happen, but now that it was, she was confused over what to label it, and she prayed that he was as sincere about it as she was becoming.  
  
"Shh, Lu. No need to worry. I'll put 'em to work tomorrow, if he can make it. We have to finish up the renovations to the Liki and I need an extra hand or two. Who cares who and what he says he is. Long as he's a good guy, everything's under control, ya?"  
  
Lulu nodded in response, but spoke no more and nuzzled into the nape of his neck before breaking the embrace. "I'll go get a dinner started. Inform our...guest that he's invited to dinner at the Crusader's lodge. Yuna and Rikku, too."  
  
Wakka smiled and, with a nod, turned on his heel back towards the temple.  
  
Lulu watched him walk away, silently pondering what would become of the sudden intimacy expressed between them. She, too, thought of the stranger, and how he would come into play. As always, a biting feeling came to her that he meant trouble, but if it was direct or indirect, she could not tell. All she knew was that the next few days would not be ordinary days.  
  
--------------------------  
  
Wakka walked back into the room, feeling awkward, since he had just come into the middle of a conversation. The others didn't take notice and he leaned against the doorjamb, listening.  
  
"So, you mean to tell me that where you're from, everyone can talk to everyone else by just looking at a screen and typing some words?"  
  
"Well, simply put, yes, you can do that Rikku. I won't try to go into the schematics of it, but everyone is connected to everyone else, not through spiritual means, but through technological means. The machina in my country not only entertains, but also saves lives. We don't have magic or potions. We have surgery, medicine, and long-term treatment. Surgery is a form of treatment that requires a practitioner to put the patient under a form of anesthesia, or something that won't make them fall asleep, and literally go inside their bodies and fix the problem. They cut the person open where they have a problem, fix it, or help it, and then sew them back up."  
  
At this, Yuna nodded, and unlike Rikku, was able to hold back the look of disgust.  
  
Weston laughed. "It may be 'gross' but it works. It's the best way to be treated, really. But some things we can't cure. Cancer and AIDS. But I won't go into those, since I doubt you've even heard of them."  
  
Yuna, once again, nodded in response, but added a smile. "It is very interesting, learning about your culture."  
  
Weston smiled, and turned, noticing Wakka.  
  
Wakka cleared his throat and nodded. "Sorry for the interruption, but I've come to tell you that you're all invited to a big dinner at the Lodge. If ya want good eats, I suggest coming." He smiled.  
  
Weston hmmed, trying to imagine what sort of food this place would have. As the other two sat up and smiled, thanking him for what he had told them, he began to think over many things. His mind raced, a direct opposite of what he showed on the outside. To the three in the doorway, he was just a guy filling his sack with his gear. But on the inside, Weston was torn between the urge to adapt and the urge to find a way home. He sighed and looked at his PDA, writing in a note on the calendar. He didn't know what day it was, so he just set a reminder. Scrawled in his own handwriting, the words "Get the hell out of here" were displayed back to him on the screen. With a smirk, he turned the device of and threw the rucksack over his shoulder, its weight considerable.  
  
He followed the three outside and was shown to his makeshift hut near the one he had come out of earlier. He tossed his rucksack into the corner and plopped onto the cot in the center. With his hands behind his head and his legs bent, knees in the air, he closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep in the afternoon heat. 


	4. Chapter 4: Climate

A/N: Why so long for such a "boring" chapter? Well, I've been thinking a lot lately as to the direction of this fic and I've changed and reverted and changed some more as to what I want to do plot wise. Originally, this was going to be the second to last chapter. As you can see, that's certainly not going to be the case. I've written an outline of events to follow and the next few chapters, this chapter included, are going to be a bridge between major events. The first is Weston's arrival, of course, but I've steered the direction from a character central plot to a more event central plot. Sure, all of the characters are going to be just as important and focused on, but the main focus will be on the events that shake and rock Spira this way and that over a certain span of time. And yes, watch out for numerous pairings to appear (the first of which is obvious in this very chapter). Lukka fans rejoice, eh? ~No One  
  
Chapter 4: Climate  
  
"I cannot accept those terms, sir. Spira is not something to be divided up among rulers. We are one people, united by our love for the land we inhabit."  
  
"You may think so, Maestress, but the Bevelle council fears that the fissure of Spira's people, the Yevonites and the...other group, will eventually turn into two separate governments. One based on faith, the other based on...whatever it shall be based on. The Council urges you to reconsider. If we separate this world into two governments -now-, we'll avoid war and still be a united people, just through trade and common goals."  
  
Yuna sighed and let her head fall. She gathered herself and looked back up to the robed Council member, who was known simply as Fagan. He was tall and dark haired. His skin was a tad pale, and he was young to be in such a position, his wardrobe white with gold trim, marking his esteemed rank.  
  
Yuna shook her head. "I cannot divide the people anymore than they already are-"  
  
She stopped as the large wooden door to the small temple's library opened with an audible groan. Wakka's red hair, then stubbly face, peeked in the small crack between the door and jamb.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt, but dinner is served. The Councilman may come too, ya?"  
  
Yuna looked to the tall figure. He nodded and gathered the parchments, sliding them into a leather satchel. With a quick turn on his sandaled heel, he exited the room with Wakka, leaving Yuna to her thoughts. A few moments later, she immerged from the Temple's granite walkway.  
  
There was a cool wind in the night air, and Yuna's hair was freely flowing in it. She smiled as she smelled the salty ocean sent coming in on the breeze, the starry sky overshadowing the lit torches. With her eyes closed, she slowly twirled in a circle, remembering the night of Tidus' arrival, and their short, yet entertaining introduction. When her eyelids finally opened, standing a few feet in front of her was the tank top and fatigue clad figure of Weston. His head was cocked, an eyebrow rose, and his eyes were curious. She smiled.  
  
"Pleasant memories."  
  
He simply nodded and walked towards the Crusader's lodge. She watched him as he did so, seeing that he was in excellent physical condition. He was probably a tad bit more fit than Wakka, since the former Blitzer had cut down on his exercise routines. With a hmm, she followed a ways behind.  
  
--------------------------  
  
When Yuna entered, she was greeted by a hug and cheek peck from Rikku, who as Yuna could tell from the girl's lips, had sampled some of the food. Wakka waved and Weston, who was leaning against a pole near the main table with arms crossed, nodded in her direction. Lulu was setting the table and waved after setting the last plate down. Yuna gave her usual smile and nod. The only one not to greet her was the Councilman, who sat near Weston. The man's eyes were studying Weston quite closely.  
  
Lulu smiled. "I'll get the food. Take your places, everyone. Doesn't matter where, just find a plate."  
  
Yuna smiled and complied, remarking that Lulu was a bit more cheery when entertaining guests.  
  
Weston moved forward slowly and took a seat near the end of the table. The Councilman sat next to Weston, eyes still locked on the stranger. Weston gave him an odd look and the bureaucrat looked towards Yuna, as she sat down at the south end of the table. Wakka sat opposite of Yuna's left, facing the young politician.  
  
From her perspective, Yuna could see all of the people gathered there. Rikku chose the seat across from Weston, and Lulu had begun setting the food down.  
  
"Just veggies tonight, I'm afraid," Lulu remarked as she sat the final bowl down.  
  
Fagan smiled, waving a hand. "No problem, madam. It looks wonderful."  
  
Weston looked to the bowls and hmmed, recognizing none of the smells. He sighed and once again told himself that he'd have to adapt, even if it meant reprogramming his taste buds.  
  
Wakka smirked. "Lulu's grumpy, but man can she cook!"  
  
Lulu sighed and gave the lummox a cold stare, immediately wiping the smirk off of his face. Afterwards, she placed large wooden utensils into the bowls and smaller ones next to each plate. "I hope you enjoy it."  
  
Rikku grabbed a bowl of a green, mossy substance that resembled spaghetti.  
  
Weston inquired as to what it was.  
  
"Seaweed," Rikku replied, smelling a leaf of it, "boiled in freshwater and a bit of chopped bell pepper."  
  
Weston gave a less than satisfactory look as he replied. "Ah."  
  
Wakka blinked. "Don't like seaweed, bud?"  
  
Weston shook his head. "We never really ate it much in my country. In other countries, they do...but not in mine."  
  
Wakka nodded. "Well, you like potatoes?"  
  
Weston smiled. "Yes. Finally something I recognize."  
  
Wakka grinned. "You'll have to go to Luca for them. We can't grow em here."  
  
Rikku laughed and Lulu scolded the red-haired behemoth. "Wakka!"  
  
Wakka looked down, staring at his already empty plate. "Sorry..."  
  
Weston sighed. "No need to be sorry. I'll take a bite of everything, and see what I like."  
  
Lulu smiled and nodded. "Have at it."  
  
As Weston bit into a white, chewy substance, he learned he'd have to adapt to quite a bit.  
  
--------------------------  
  
Lulu tilted her head, a sorrowful look on her face. "I'm sorry that we didn't have much to give you to eat. But you did like the Moonflow beans, right? You ate quite a bit of them."  
  
Weston smiled. "They were excellent. They remind me of Navy Beans, which I love."  
  
Lulu hmmed. "Well, I'm glad. Now, I have to go find that thickheaded Wakka..."  
  
Weston laughed, pointing towards the Temple. "He went that'a way."  
  
She smiled and turned on her heel, quickly walking towards the large stone building. Rikku and Yuna were chatting it up in the entrance of the lodge. Fagan was sifting through some papers on the step of the temple's walkway. He looked flustered.  
  
"Something wrong?"  
  
Fagan looked up to the strange young man. "Er...no. Just getting these papers in order."  
  
Weston hmmed and grabbed them quickly from the Councilman's hand. "Hey! What are you doing?"  
  
Weston grinned as he quickly read the cover sheet. "What is this?"  
  
"A proposal."  
  
"Or a declaration?"  
  
"It is only a proposal. The Maestress refused to sign."  
  
"I don't blame her. From what this rhetoric states, she'd be given the smallest amount of land to rule as possible. I doubt you used that line when you tried to sell her the idea, eh?"  
  
"It is nothing of your concern! You are not even a legal inhabitant!"  
  
"I'm here, am I not?"  
  
"But are you welcome here?"  
  
"So far, so good."  
  
Fagan growled and reached for the papers, to which Weston quickly snatched them away. Once again the Councilman reached, only to be stopped once more. After a few more tries, the struggle caught the attention of Rikku and Yuna, who began walking towards the two.  
  
"Something the matter," asked Yuna.  
  
"Nothing I cannot handle myself, Maestress," came Fagan's curt reply.  
  
Yuna looked to Weston.  
  
"What? You know this entire proposal is pure bull...lies, right?"  
  
Yuna nodded. "He did not let me read it, but I could gather that much from his words."  
  
Weston nodded and once more Fagan tried for the papers. Weston shrugged him off and began walking towards one of the torches that lit the village's main road. He held the corner of the cover sheet to the fire and immediately, it began burning.  
  
"If she doesn't sign it, what use is it to you?"  
  
"The Council would revise it in negotiation."  
  
Yuna spoke up. "And what if I refused -that- revision?"  
  
"Then we would revise it once more. We will not give up, Maestress. With or without a war, this world will have to be divided one day."  
  
Weston laughed and dropped the burning page to the ground, stomping it out with his heel. The fire had left only the title of the document intact.  
  
Yuna cringed, trying to stay calm as Weston defied some of the most principal laws of the new Calm's government. She witness Fagan charge Weston and closed her eyes, not wanting to see what she thought would happen next.  
  
Weston's laughter hit its peak when the young Councilman slid into one of the torches that lit the path, his head making a loud thock sound as it hit. Rikku, too, was laughing and pointing. Yuna sighed and tried to keep herself under control. She didn't know how this little episode would affect her relationship with the Council, but she knew it would not have a positive outcome.  
  
Fagan pushed himself up and growled, brushing off the front of his robe. "Your friend's treatment of me will not bode well for you, Maestress. I pray that Yevon forgives you in your infidelity and your treatment of me, but I doubt he has much care for you -and- your heathen friends. Now, if you wouldn't mind sir, I have to be back in Bevelle within two days."  
  
Weston smirked and handed Fagan the rest of the document, who then stuffed it in the satchel and curtly turned around, hurriedly heading towards the trail that led to the docks.  
  
Weston wiped his ashy feet on a patch of grass and started heading towards his tent, only to be stopped by the grasping hand of Rikku.  
  
"Hey, Yunie needs to talk to you!"  
  
Weston grunted and turned around. Yuna was slightly to the left of Rikku.  
  
"I'm going to have to ask you not to do anything of that sort again. He may have deserved it, but the Council must be respected, no matter what you may have against them. I, as a Maestress, must represent all that is good in Spira." Yuna said in a soft, yet commanding voice.  
  
Weston nodded. "Yeah. I understand. But you do realize the "Council" or whatever it is -will- try again, and again, and again, until they'll even threaten your life. That's just how those types operate. If you're the 'ruler' of this world, why do you even need them?"  
  
"For advice. I was only a summoner. I had no experience in ruling and a group of men was selected by an elder in Bevelle to help me. They're my counsel, but they are a Council."  
  
Weston grinned. "The power behind the power. You should watch what they do. Never trust the brain trust."  
  
Yuna shrugged. "I do what I must."  
  
Weston sighed. "Yeah, and so did Hitler."  
  
"What...?"  
  
"Nothing. Good night." And with that, Weston once again turned towards his makeshift dwelling, popping his neck before ducking into it.  
  
Yuna sighed and looked to Rikku. "Not very diplomatic, is he?"  
  
Rikku laughed. "He's going to get all of us in trouble bullying a Council member around like that."  
  
As Yuna headed for Weston's tent, she mumbled under her breath, "That's what I'm afraid of..."  
  
--------------------------  
  
Lulu found Wakka in the Temple's library, reading through some old documents. Surprised, she stepped forward a little bit, bending over to glance at what he was reading.  
  
He must've sensed her questioning gaze, for he quietly said, "Old summoner tales..."  
  
She hmmed and leaned back, looking for something to sit on. Next to a small shelf, she found a flat pillow. Quickly, she shuffled it over with her foot and next to Wakka's pad. She bent down, knees first, and rested her elbows on the table, head resting in her palms. Wakka didn't really notice with his nose buried in the manuscripts.  
  
Finally, she asked, "And why are you looking at these tales?"  
  
Wakka shrugged. "I...won't lie. I miss it Lu, ya know?"  
  
She sighed, nodding. "I know. I miss Tidus' cheery banter and Auron's insights."  
  
"And I miss all the battles. I know that we were all in danger, but I 'spose nothing will ever really compare. All the places, too. We visited a whole lotta places, ya?"  
  
Lulu nodded in response and closed her eyes, remembering the events of the previous year. "Things certainly have changed since then."  
  
"Ya. For one, I ain't got anything to do around here, what with all the summoner business stopped. The Eternal Calm isn't all it's cracked up to be, ya?"  
  
"True, Wakka, but we have to be thankful we don't have to worry about Sin any longer. No more senseless killing. No more destruction."  
  
"Ya, that is a good thing. The world isn't what it used to be and we aren't going to be the same people in a few years. We have a buncha stuff to get used to."  
  
Lulu sighed as Wakka put down the papers and turned towards her. "What do you think the future has in store for us, Wakka?"  
  
Wakka shrugged. "Hard to say really. With all this Council crap and the New Yevon movement with its Youth Alliance, ya can't just go around pointing towards the future of Spira."  
  
Lulu nodded and opened her eyes, looking directly into Wakka's. "And of -us-?"  
  
Taken aback by the question, the only legible sound that came from his mouth was "I...I..."  
  
She smiled softly and stood, returning the pillow to its original place. She headed to the door without a word and put her hand on the knob. She turned it and pushed the heavy door open, and faintly heard Wakka's hushed and mumbled words.  
  
"A lifetime of happiness, I pray..."  
  
--------------------------  
  
Yuna quickly turned around at the sight of Weston is only his boxers. To this, Weston had only laughed as the red-cheeked Yuna kept mumbling her apologies.  
  
She had caught him shaving with his army issue knife. Half of his beard was gone, the other half with a foamy substance covering it. A bowl of water was on a medium-sized stone, Weston's makeshift table.  
  
"I really need a door on this hut and a damn mirror, as you can see," he remarked, pointing to the bloody nicks on his face.  
  
She cleared her throat and nodded. After a few moments, he told her to turn around. He was still sans shirt, but his fatigues were around his waist.  
  
"Come to chew me out some more," he asked.  
  
"Just to inform you of some things. I haven't explained the full situation to you, and I apologize. But I feel now that I must warn you, for your actions tonight would have gotten you landed in confinement in some areas of Spira."  
  
"Darn. And I so looked forward to incarceration."  
  
Yuna hmmed and tilted her head, obviously not getting his sarcasm.  
  
He shrugged. "Go on."  
  
She sighed. "The Council is mine, of course, but as you can tell, they do not like the idea of me in power."  
  
Weston nodded.  
  
"But there is another movement that I fear even greater than the Council."  
  
Weston hmmed and raised an eyebrow. "And that is...?"  
  
"The New Yevon movement. Its leadership consists of the ousted Maesters and the Guado. They're ranks are rather large and are still growing. The majority of the people in Bevelle are New Yevoners. They appeal mainly to teens."  
  
"About your age?"  
  
"Yes, and younger. The younger teens were confused once the religion fell. Misguided and without anything to put faith in, they started the Youth Alliance in Luca. It was just an organization helping teens face their problems. But, slowly, the New Yevon party seeded the teens with the ideals of the rebirth of Yu Yevon and the second coming of Sin. The teens readily accepted it because of their want to believe in something not of this world. Now the Youth Alliance has moved shop to Bevelle and is the main recruitment for the New Yevon party."  
  
"And let me guess. The New Yevon party wants you out of power and is probably controlling your Council as well."  
  
"Evidence would suggest that, yes. Therefore, I cannot trust the actions of the Council because I feel they are against me as much as the New Yevoners are. And I'm constantly bombarded with invitations to join the Youth Alliance and New Yevon party."  
  
"And you deny them politely."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But they still hold hostilities against you because, simply put, you're everything they stand against."  
  
Yuna sighed and nodded.  
  
"That helps quite a bit to know."  
  
"So I must ask you to obey any and all laws in any given area and to watch what you say about the climate of politics here in Spira."  
  
"Ten four."  
  
She raised an eyebrow.  
  
Weston laughed. "I understand."  
  
She smiled. "Thank you."  
  
He bowed mockingly, but she didn't catch it. "No, thank -you-."  
  
With that, she ducked out of the tent and Weston plopped onto his cot. While closing his eyes, he put out the small candle on the floor next to the cot. His first conscious day was tiring, and sleep came fast for Charles Weston. 


	5. Chapter 5: Pre Tournament

From The Yuna Letters, p. 10-12, Cid  
  
Dear Cid,  
  
Uncle. It has been a while since we last talked. Nearly two weeks now, correct? The letter preceding this one mentioned of a strange arrival at Besaid Beach. Indeed, he is -quite- strange.  
  
His name is Charles Weston, as you may recall from the last letter. His first week here was marked by his slumber and his second week has seen him working quite efficiently on building himself a permanent hut. As per his request, he did receive a mirror and small nightstand before any other home items. I assume you may wonder as to why he needs these two items over most other necessities. For some odd reason, he does not let his facial hair go by one day without shaving with that bulky knife of his. His eating habits, despite his week without food, are very. I don't believe he likes the food in town, but when a few imported potatoes came in the other day, he went absolutely crazy. Without any Gil, he had to rely on Wakka to loan him some. Speaking of money, I'm going to offer him a job helping with the renovations on the S.S. Likki while it's in port.  
  
Over the past few days, your daughter has been tormenting me over this fellow. All I hear from her are accusations that I'm developing an attraction to Weston. I must assure you that I'm not. I scarcely know him and you know...of my situation.  
  
Uncle...I can't accept that Tidus was a dream. No. I -refuse- to accept it. I just...keep hoping. He was my only love and I've lost him forever...and yet I know he's out there, somewhere. Every day I go to the beach and whistle for an hour or so. Yes, it may sound crazy, but maybe he'll show up one day...I just refuse to accept that he's gone.  
  
I need advice...on how to deal with this. It's been nearly a year and yet I can't let him go. How can I surv-  
  
[Garbled due to tear stains]  
  
...Add to that the shambles of government in Spira I have to deal with. The Eternal Calm is turning into a nightmare slowly and I have no idea how to fix it. I'm finding it hard to not show my fears to my friends, what little of them are left.  
  
[Tear stained]  
  
...at is all I need, really. Just someone to help me with these problems.  
  
On to happier news. I've been very surprised lately at Wakka and Lulu. They've both been very busy at nearly the same times. If I hadn't have caught them in the temple, I'd be very angry at them...It was so beautiful, seeing them cuddling and kissing in the Temple library. I didn't watch for long, but I saw enough to say that they -are- in love; the looks they were giving each other were full of it.  
  
I fear I must cut this letter short. A representative for the Youth Alliance is, once again, here, waiting for my polite declining statement. When will they learn? I pray things go well in the rebuilding process. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask.  
  
Love Always,  
  
Yuna  
  
--------------------  
  
Chapter 5: Pre-Tournament  
  
--------------------  
  
"Hey you two. Need some water?"  
  
Wakka, who was coated in a thick sheen of sweat, wiped his brow and jumped down from the roof of the nearly completed dwelling. Wakka's shirtless body was red with exhaustion, nearly becoming the same color as his hair.  
  
"You're a life saver, Lu."  
  
Lulu, clad in a thin, black satin blouse and grayish capris, smiled and handed over one of the glasses of water to him. He smiled and nearly downed the drink in one gulp.  
  
Weston, who was still hammering away, failed to notice the offer and continued to work, grunting now and then when a nail or board troubled him.  
  
Wakka looked up, indicating Weston as he spoke. "Dunno why he doesn't use straw. Has to make it hard on himself with wood. It's costing Besaid a fortune to import all of these trees. Good thing he's almost done, ya?"  
  
Lulu shrugged. "I tend to not want to get into such matters. I believe that one can do what one wants, if that certain want -is- possible. A wooden house isn't impossible...just not practical."  
  
"Eh...I just think it's nuts. He coulda had a straw and leaf hut built in two days. Instead it's taken him nearly a month to do this."  
  
"Oh, let him do what he will. It's his money...and his time. I'm sure he appreciates the help," Lulu remarked, smiling as she poked the burly redhead in the chest. Besides, he's done an excellent job on the Likki."  
  
"Ya, I'll give him that. Wonder where he learned wood working like he does..."  
  
Weston hit the ground as Wakka asked this, hands resting on his hips.  
  
He answered, words coming between gasps for air, "College. Minored in carpentry. I come from a long line of woodworkers."  
  
"You went to a college," asked Wakka, wide eyed.  
  
"Yeah. It's not uncommon if you can afford it."  
  
"Yeah, bud, but College...that's a high privilege around here. Before the Eternal Calm, College was for Maester hopefuls and Summoners. Now it's just extremely expensive and you have to have high social status."  
  
"Well, where I come from, college is available as long as you have the money and will power to get into one."  
  
Wakka shrugged.  
  
Weston shook his head and laughed. Lulu came up to him and smiled, offering the other glass of water. Weston smiled, nodded, and took the glass, downing it quickly. He handed the glass back to Lulu and quickly headed back up the ladder. In a few moments, he was hammering away once more.  
  
Lulu sighed. "He just doesn't give up, does he? He's constantly working on that."  
  
Wakka nodded. "Ya, Lu, but that just means he's goal oriented. He starts on something and keeps his pace until he's done."  
  
She sighed once more. "But it's not healthy working sun up to sun down."  
  
Wakka shrugged. "If it's what he wants to do, let him. The sooner he gets a hut...er...house to live in, the sooner he'll be able to relax."  
  
She nodded, staring off into the distance for a little while. A small silence came between them until she raised a finger as if a thought had just jumped to her.  
  
"Ah, I remembered what I was going to ask you."  
  
"Ya," he asked.  
  
"What about the yearly blitzball tournament? It's only two days away. The Aurochs will be defending their title. Are you going to be there to support them?"  
  
"I thought about it. Dunno if we should go though...too many memories in that place...specially for Yuna, ya?"  
  
Lulu thought for a moment, nodding as she did so. "I see what you mean. Well, Yuna has been busy lately. The shopkeeper told me that, while buying more potatoes in Luca, she heard something about this year's Tournament being sponsored by the Youth Alliance. If that's true, the New Yevon council will be attending. Maybe Yuna can do a bit of diplomacy while she's there."  
  
"That would keep her mind offa things, but you think that she'd wanna mix her duties in with some fun?" Wakka agreed.  
  
"I believe Yuna's more worried over the growing tensions than she lets on. If she could catch the New Yevoners while they're enjoying themselves, and maybe have a meeting with them, then she could possibly end the blossoming disputes."  
  
"Maybe...but they do seem a bit...stubborn."  
  
"As stubborn as you," Lulu asked with a smile.  
  
Wakka mocked a growl and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead.  
  
"No one's as stubborn as -me-," he whispered with a grin.  
  
She mmhmmed and nuzzled her cheek into his bare chest, a hand slowly sliding up and down his back as he held her.  
  
"You like to hug sweaty guys?"  
  
"Only one..."  
  
He smiled and released the embrace. "I needa shower. I'll be in my hut if you need me."  
  
She smiled and nodded. "I'll ask Yuna about the tournament."  
  
He hmmed. "Where is she anyway?"  
  
Lulu shrugged. "I haven't seen her since breakfast. Well...I thought...Ok, now I'm worried. I'll go look for her, ok?"  
  
Wakka nodded and headed towards his hut. "Keep me informed, ya?"  
  
"I will," she replied.  
  
She turned to go look for Yuna at the temple, but stopped in her tracks at a sudden animalistic growl filled the air.  
  
"Damnit!"  
  
She backed away a bit to see above the roof. A hammer went flying over her head and landed with a loud -thwack- into the side of the Temple. She backed up a few more feet and saw Weston going in circles, mumbling curses to himself as his gripped his visibly red thumb.  
  
"Are you ok," she asked.  
  
"Yeah," he grumbled in reply. "Just hit my thumb."  
  
She nodded and walked towards the temple. "Do you need your hammer back?"  
  
He shook his head. "Nah. It got the last nail in regardless of my thumb being there."  
  
"So you're done?"  
  
"On the outside, yeah."  
  
She smiled and stepped into the Temple, leaving Weston to transfer his furniture alone.  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna sighed as she looked out into the vast ocean in front of her. Her bare feet were cool, a stark contrast to her nearly boiling back, which was right under the afternoon sun. As her toes dug into the muddy sand, she thought back to the night that she's focused on for a year or more.  
  
~ Spinning around in the water, lips pressed to his, she's truly happy. She forgets her woes, her enemies, and for once, focuses on her self and her wants, something not becoming of someone of her pedigree. Alas, she remembers what she must do as they break away from the kissing, their hands separating. The kisses and cuddles daze her for a moment, but soon, reality hits her like a catapulted stone. For a fleeting moment, she's truly happy, and she vows, that when she's done, and if she survives, that happiness will never leave her side. ~  
  
Of course, Yuna's moment of smiles ends abruptly, as she recalls the moment when she ran to be in his arms, but only fell. He turned and muttered not a word. She vowed her love and he jumped away from whence he came.  
  
Soon, the water isn't the only thing staining the beach. The salty drops that are her tears hit the sand in large, booming waves, her ears picking up each sound as if they were bombs being dropped on a city. With each tear came a cry of sorrow and a sob of grief.  
  
Why couldn't she have what she wanted? Why was she always robbed of her happiness? These things she wondered as her red, tear-clouded eyes scanned the horizon.  
  
Shakily, two fingers came to her lips and she whistled as loud as she could. And she kept whistling until she could scarcely draw a breath.  
  
No answer came and she once again broke into her sorrowful sobs. But, as soon as her eyes opened, a small, human like blur was thrashing through the water towards her. Confused at first, she simply watched it as it got closer.  
  
Her mind raced and her heart pounded. Was this finally her chance to be happy? She stood, wiping the tears from her eyes, trying to view the blur a bit better. It was steaming toward her at alarming speed. From this closing distance, she could finally tell what it was; a human figure.  
  
She walked forward, ankle deep in the surging tide, leaning forward as the figure drew near, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. The figure dove into the water and disappeared amongst the depths. She whimpered a bit and walked forward a few feet more, shin deep in the water, looking for it under the water.  
  
A few moments later, which felt like years to Yuna, the figure rose from the water, splashing water a few feet in front of her. She recognized him through her squinted eyes. The sun played off of his blond-with-brown rooted hair, his ocean blue eyes piercing into her own. He was shirtless and as muscular as ever, and she ran forward as he walked up onto shore, wrapping her arms around his waist. She began spouting confessions of love at the top of her lungs as she nuzzled into his chest.  
  
Had her eyes been open, she would've been able to tell that he was much taller than her. To her horror, he pushed her away. She backed up a few feet from him, tears blinding her vision. She heard him speak, and it certainly wasn't Tidus.  
  
"Uh...Yuna? You sick or something?"  
  
Now on the verge of spilling her lunch all over the sand from embarrassment, Yuna ran off, weeping rather loudly.  
  
Weston blinked and ran a hand through his wet hair, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.  
  
--------------------  
  
"And then she ran off somewhere. I still don't know what really happened. I was just taking a dip into the ocean and I come up on Besaid beach, and then she pounces me."  
  
Wakka hmmed, staring at the ground infront of his bare feet. "So you have nothing to do with her running off? It was her mistake?"  
  
"Far as I know. All I did was walk onto the beach."  
  
Lulu walked over, distraught from having to calm Yuna. "Yuna apologizes. She...thought he was Tidus."  
  
Wakka groaned. "When is she going to let go of him? It's been nearly a year, ya?"  
  
Lulu sighed, ignoring Wakka's comment. "I calmed her enough to get the gist of her somewhat coherent explanation. She simply mistook him for Tidus and was so embarrassed by it, she had to run off to compose herself."  
  
Weston sighed. "I didn't mean to cause any harm..."  
  
Lulu sighed and raised a hand. "It wasn't your fault. But now we certainly need to get her away from this place. It's gotten her delusional."  
  
Wakka nodded. "Ya, we've got to get her outta here.  
  
Weston raised an eyebrow. "And your plans are...?"  
  
Wakka looked to Lulu for approval, to which she nodded.  
  
"A blitzball tournament in Luca. Just get her mind offa things, ya?"  
  
"Blitzball?"  
  
Lulu sighed. "A sport. An athletic challenge where teams come together to see who's better. You have those where you come from?"  
  
Weston nodded. "Yeah, but nothing called 'blitzball.'"  
  
Wakka shook his head, not wanting to explain the game. "He'll learn about it at the tournament, if we go."  
  
Lulu nodded and crossed her arms, while Weston just stood there, a veritable deer in headlights. His life and military training had not trained him for a whole new world filled with customs and beliefs that totally turned his head around. All he could do was sit and observe, hoping he could someday blend in. Right now, he was like a canker sore, something that stuck out and could easily be targeted. His survival depended upon his ability to blend in. He'd have to get some of their clothing before he even tried to go outside of Besaid.  
  
Weston broke the dreary silence. "Wakka, I've been meaning to ask you. These clothes of mine are becoming hard to wash everyday. Think I could borrow some clothes?"  
  
This seemed to break Wakka from his daze. "Oh...ya. I'll bring you an old uniform later."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Mmhmm."  
  
Weston hmmed and stood there, watching the other two stare off in the distance, trying to solve inner conflicts through a silence that even a soldier like Weston couldn't handle.  
  
Weston sighed and excused himself, to which no answer came, and headed back to his newly built dwelling. The house itself, if it could be called that, was only one room. It lacked any necessities save the bed and nightstand. A small wicker chair was placed in front of the only window on the small home. The window faced the sea, which mean that it was harbored on the southernmost wall of the structure. The door was hastily made and the hinges on which it moved were cheap little mechanisms from Luca's market. The small stove and icebox -that only kept potatoes at the moment- were in the Northwest corner, just opposite of the doorjamb.  
  
Upon entering, Weston immediately sat on the chair, leaning back to let the wicker dig into his torso's naked flesh. His eyes wandered about the waves, trying to capture some sense of meaning for his occupation here. Why, he asked himself, am I here? What did I do to get here and how do I get back? Of course, to these questions came no answers. Only the white- noise silence that accompanied a troublesome afternoon on Besaid Island filled his ears.  
  
The ocean's churning and the sounds of the local nature were the backdrop for Weston's wandering thoughts. From his situation to his parents to the odd encounter on the beach, he thought of everything that would soon affect his life. But these thoughts ere soon drowned out by his body's sudden awareness of all the work and punishment it had been through. He nodded off and would not wake until the next day.  
  
--------------------  
  
"So you'll go?"  
  
"Yes. Will you send correspondence to ask the New Yevon council to meet me in the conference balcony during the finals? If I can settle this now, it'll help Spira become stronger...I hope."  
  
"I'll get right on it."  
  
"Thank you, Lulu."  
  
--------------------  
  
A/N: Big DECISION that leads up to a big TURNING POINT hehe. Yeah, so the pacing is a bit slow. Sue me, if ya wanna. Won't get much though $.$. I was originally going to include Chapter 6 in this too, but decided not to, since I like to torture my readers as much as my characters ^.~. Thanks for the awesome comments guys. Hope this chapter is a good one. Oh, and I don't proofread my work until it's drafted. So until this is done, whatever typos are here will stay here, but I do try to keep them at a bare minimum. But let's face it; we're all human, no? Or are we...? ^^ ~No One 


	6. Chapter 6: Secret Meeting

Chapter 6: Secret Meeting  
  
Fagan sighed, looking around at his fellow councilmen. Most of them were much older than he, and he wondered why the elder had chosen him to help lead this council. Fagan had been one of the founding members of the Youth Alliance. He was the great grandson of Maester Mika himself, and believed full heartedly in Yevon, making him the best candidate for the job, save his lack of experience. Still, he felt odd amongst the older men of both Yuna's Council and the heads of the New Yevon party.  
  
Fagan had received a hurried letter seeking his counsel at a secret meeting between the two councils. Fagan knew that Yuna knew nothing of the two councils being joined, but he felt that it was almost common knowledge that the two shared information and advised each other.  
  
The purpose of the meeting was to decide on the problem that Yuna posed. She was not pro-Yevon and was considered a threat to any movement to unite the people under the control of Yevon, which would be administered from Bevelle. Of course, the two councils would merge and rule together. All they needed was her signature, but they knew that wasn't going to happen.  
  
Fagan sighed once more and slowly stood, bringing his hands up, trying to gesture the men to be quiet. "Gentlemen, gentlemen. We must get down to order. We have less than a day to find a solution."  
  
The chosen leader between the two councils, Lord Nyka, formerly a maester, rose. "Aye. Fagan, please be seated. Now, gentlemen, we have a dilemma. We all know that Braska's daughter will not comply with our wishes for the people of Spira. What we must now do is find a way to silence or overshadow the High Summoner Yuna."  
  
A man from Yuna's council, named Clegan nodded. "I agree, but what shall we do? We cannot defy the teachings."  
  
Nyka nodded. "Yes, I know. We must adhere to the teachings. But, if I may," he said, motioning to a thick book laid out on the table. "This, gentlemen, is the book of Yevon. It is opened to page nine hundred and twenty seven. The fifth chapter, second verse reads, 'He who opposes all that Yevon teaches, is the infidel, the heathen, the traitor and he must be taught to love Yevon and his teachings, or die for his sin.' So you see, my friends that the Book states that anyone who opposes us is the enemy, and therefore can be dealt with accordingly. I push forward to vote on dispelling our dear Yuna by punishing her for her sins."  
  
While this seemed to calm some of the worried members, it still did not click in Fagan's mind. He hmmed and thought on Nyka's words while the rest of the men gave their supporting nods.  
  
Fagan blinked, the plan just now registering in his mind. "There are other ways of dealing with this. Negative force is not one! We cannot punish Yuna for believing what she wants...It's not the right thing to do. We could, maybe, try to reinstate her faith in the teachings."  
  
Nyka smiled. "Young one, you are going to have to learn that, if you want to be a prominent leader in this organization, you're going to have to have a strong fist. One that can't be questioned no matter what. Even Yevon himself says so."  
  
Fagan sighed and slumped in his chair, not liking the impromptu lesson.  
  
Nyka continued. "Gentlemen, we have to do something and we have to do it now. She meets with us tomorrow. That something -must- occur after that meeting."  
  
Fagan sighed. "You have a plan?"  
  
"Yes I do, but let's convene for now. Leave separately from the balcony, as to not draw any attention. Do not converse with each other. Go straight home. We'll meet back here in two hours. Don't worry about the guards, they're trust worthy."  
  
The men nodded and stood, shaking each other's hands. Fagan sighed and left first, the rest of them filing out shortly after, obeying Nyka's rules.  
  
--------------------  
  
Fagan sighed heavily as he slumped into his chair even more, robe sliding up, revealing his pale shins.  
  
"Something wrong, dear," asked his newly wedded wife, Elaine. She was about his height, roughly five foot six, slender with long sandy-brown hair, jade-green eyes and rosy cheeks. He loved her more than anything else on Spira, and he prayed that she could help him in his dilemma.  
  
He sighed as he spoke. "Nothing's wrong," he replied softly, to which she just shook her head and plopped into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.  
  
"Hon, that's not the way things look from here. Now tell me, what's bothering you?"  
  
He sighed once more. "It's just...the council is planning something I don't want to participate in."  
  
She nodded, leaning in to kiss his chin. "Well then don't participate in it."  
  
"I have to go with what the council does. Otherwise, I'm back to square one. I -want- to lead someday, Elaine..."  
  
She smiled and put her palm to his cheek. "You -will-, just have faith and you will. Everything will turn out for the better over time."  
  
He smiled and ran a hand through her hair, kissing the tip of her nose. "Thank you for your faith in me."  
  
"Why wouldn't I have faith in you," she asked with a smile, rubbing her nose against his.  
  
"Oh, I don't know..." he replied, lightly pressing his lips to hers.  
  
She closed her eyes and deepened the kiss, her hands kneading into the back of his neck. When the kiss slowly faded, she asked him in a gruffer, deeper voice, "When do you have to be back?"  
  
"In about an hour..."  
  
"Good."  
  
--------------------  
  
"Nice to see you again, gentlemen. I pray you had decent lunches," Nyka said, as the members each took their seat.  
  
To Nyka's comment Fagan smiled to himself, nodding in agreement. Nyka went over the formalities once more, explaining that, simply put, everything said and done in the room was completely secret, as was the union between the two councils, blah blah.  
  
Fagan yawned and Nyka took the hint.  
  
"On to business. Many of you have probably conjectured as to what my exact plans are. Well, rather than bore you with having to read mounds of paperwork, I'll just tell you now. Of course, I will pass out an outline of proposed events. This will be what to expect tomorrow."  
  
And with that, he handed a stack of paper to the man closest to him and let the papers circulate.  
  
Fagan received his copy but did not read it, fearing what it said. He simply waited for Nyka to spell out his plans.  
  
"Now, I shall explain each time listed in exact detail. Yuna and the Aurochs will more than likely arrive by airship around nine in the morning. The airship will dock much like a sea-fairing ship, so no extra procedures should be in place here. Since they arrive at the Docks, the will have to make the way to the stadium through crowded paths. It should take Yuna roughly thirty minutes to make it to the locker room alone, due to her high position of power. Look for her normal companions, formerly her guardians, to be with her.  
  
"At ten o'clock, the games start. Yuna and her compatriots will be enjoying the entertainment. The games should last until one in the afternoon. While the finals are being played, the meeting will commence and The New Yevon Council will -try- to negotiate some sort of diplomatic deal with her. We'll just throw a little treaty proclaiming peace between New Yevon and the Maestress at her."  
  
"But how does that tie in with our getting rid of her? If we just sign a peace treaty and move on, how is she out of our way?"  
  
"Clegan, please, let me finish. When Yuna and the Aurochs make their way back to the Docks, two hired men will be on their dock. They will be dressed as Crusaders, but they will be two men I pick from a list of resources. The council will not be able to be traced, so none of you should be worried. With the Crusaders blamed for the two men's actions, it'll be dispersed. That way, any sympathy towards the Maestress within the ranks will be gone, and we can reform our own army. With an army, I do not believe much opposition will befall us."  
  
Another member asked, "And after that?"  
  
"We spread the word of Yevon...and Spira is ours."  
  
Fagan sighed. "And what, exactly, are these two men's actions?"  
  
Nyka blinked, as if someone had asked him the most rhetorical question ever muttered. "They are going to kill her."  
  
--------------------  
  
A/N: Told you it was coming shortly. This entire -short- chapter is just insight into the plans of the "Two Councils." Oh, and I added a tiny teeny itsy witsy bit of depth to Fagan. I'm sure this is a boring chapter; so don't hesitate to say so. ^^;; Chapter 7 will be a lot longer, and it won't be boring, I guarantee ^^ Ta-ta for now. ~No One 


	7. Chapter 7: Day of the Tournament

Pre A/N: This is my make up gift for Chapter 6. It was boring, short, and didn't have a lot of value, save showing the sinister councils in action. Well, this chapter is long, (hopefully) exciting, and I've spent a long time churning this out before the school week hit. Enjoy ^^ ~ No One  
  
Chapter 7: Day of the Tournament  
  
Weston's eyes trained along the quick moving skyline, admiring the sun's radiance shining through the white, fluffy clouds. He hmmed and shrugged his shoulders, trying to get used to the odd, yellow outfit Wakka had given him to wear. It wasn't chaffing per se, but it was a little odd, since it was made with a dense material. Underneath it he only had his freshly washed boxers. Wakka had told him not to wear anything more, so that he could better fit in. Weston, even though he had nothing to be self- conscious over, hated being barely clothed. In fact, the only reason he ever went shirtless was to stay cool in hot weather.  
  
Weston's green eyes moved to the semi-opaque reflection of himself. He scarcely recognized the person looking back at him. Whenever he looked into a mirror, he still saw that scared, pudgy child jumping from foster home to foster home, trying to put a horrific past behind him. That same child could barely keep friends, was teased constantly, and was bullied at whichever school he was in at the time. This child had only his books and imagination to keep him sane, and at the moment the child turned into an eighteen-year-old adolescent, he joined the Army. However, due to his insecurities (and an eating disorder), they sent him on his way.  
  
Not able to fend for himself, he jumped from homeless shelters to Salvation Army posts and back again, much like his broken childhood. Tired and about to give up on it all, Weston began living on the streets. Eating only when he could bum money off of bystanders or when he found food, he began to lose the weight in the worst of ways. With his spirit broken and his body becoming a wreck, he admitted himself into a mental health clinic, just for the shelter and care. But soon, after befriending the staff there, he began to find himself once more. His drive to become better was so astounding, none of the staff at the clinic could release him; he'd always come up with some excuse to stay. After a year, he had toned his body and mind, and left the clinic to try the Army once more. Two years older and fitter in body and mind, the Army gladly accepted him. Basic training was a breeze and after a short mission in Columbia, he began training to become a member of the elite Delta Force, the Army's anti-terrorist spec ops team. He easily made the cut.  
  
Weston closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head, trying to erase the memories from his thoughts. He opened his eyes once more and could see the anthill like skyline of Luca. The sheer size of the city excited him, for it resembled something he'd see in America. Ships could be seen entering docks, flags and banners waving, birds flying in and out of the city. Weston smiled secretly, not wanting to show his exciting too obviously. His heart picked up it's pace as the airship descended slowly, the city growing in size every few feet.  
  
A voice came over some sort of intercom and said, "Fa femm pa ynejehk eh Luca crundmo. Bmayca tu hud aqed dra yencreb ihdem ehcdnildeuhc yna kejah."  
  
Weston sighed. Even in this world he could not escape languages he didn't understand. Luckily, the same voice then said, "We will arrive in Luca shortly. Please refrain from exiting the airship until instructions are given."  
  
With a groan, Weston turned around and headed back down the stairs that lead to the inner cabins. Passing through two metal sliding doors, he headed two columns down a large, semi-circular pathway and walked through another set of doors. These doors opened up to yet another hallway that had yet another set of doors at the end. He walked slowly through these and entered a large room with seats on either side. At the far end was a small screen on which a mostly opaque image was being displayed. Yuna and Rikku were in the two front-left seats, and Wakka and Lulu were sitting opposite of them on the right-front pair of seats.  
  
"An in-flight movie, eh," Weston chuckled. Rikku was the first to turn around, immediately laughing at seeing him in the Auroch uniform. Lulu turned around and gave him an odd look.  
  
"I don't think that suits you too well, Weston," she said, trying to hold in her grin.  
  
Wakka's head popped up above his seat. "Ya, you do look a bit odd in it, brudda. But, I don't think you'll have too much trouble passing as an Auroch. Lookit that build!"  
  
Weston grunted and walked forward, eyeing the screen a bit closer. The image was certainly moving, and Weston could recognize a cheering crowd, two differently colored teams of six players each, and a scoreboard. In the center of the image was a few Weston looked to Wakka with a finger pointed at the screen.  
  
"Blitzball?"  
  
"Ya, last year's match between the Beasts and Goers. It was a close one. Goers won of course...but the Beasts put up a fight."  
  
Weston raised an eyebrow and sat a row behind Wakka and Lulu, eyes glued to the screen.  
  
On the screen, Weston could see the two teams vying for position and points. As far as he could tell, Blitzball was basically water polo and soccer mixed. As Wakka was commenting on what was happening, Weston hmmed, wandering how a sport like this had developed, especially the 'playing underwater' aspect. When Wakka started explaining the positions, Weston laughed.  
  
"The positions are the same as Hockey."  
  
"Hockey," Wakka asked.  
  
"Think of Blitzball...played on top of ice."  
  
"Jeez, that'd be dangerous, ya?"  
  
Both Rikku and Yuna laughed, Lulu hiding a chuckle.  
  
"What, and playing underwater isn't," Weston asked in defense.  
  
"Nah. When you get in the sphere, it's just like being outside of it, 'cept you have a goal to get a ball into, and you don't have to worry 'bout things like gravity and such."  
  
Weston raised an eyebrow. "What about -breathing-?"  
  
Wakka grinned. "Well, the well trained players can hold their breath for long times. But, for some reason, in the spheres, you can breathe. We don't know why. That secret died with Zanarkand and the old Spira."  
  
Of course, this perplexed Weston beyond description, but like everything in Spira, he'd have to go along with it.  
  
The air ship made a sudden halt and Weston heard a loud sound that resembled that of an anchor dropping. The voice from before came over the intercom again.  
  
"Du aqed dra creb, bmayca ica dra vnuhd pyo tuunc. Bmayca fydlr ouin cdab uh dra supema cdyenc. Mevd uvv ec yd veja BS. Bmayca syga cina du pa pylg uh dra yencreb po vuin drendo. Dryhg oui."  
  
And translated: "To exit the ship, please use the front bay doors. Please watch your step on the mobile stairs. Lift off is at five PM. Please make sure to be back on the airship by four thirty. Thank you."  
  
Rikku quickly got up and ran out of the room, Yuna jogging behind. Weston followed Lulu and Wakka out and into the hallway. From the hallway, they stepped onto the semi-circle pathway and made their way up the stairs that lead to the large ball room/exit. The two doors were still opening and a large crowd of people were filing out rather slowly. Weston saw many oddly dressed people that he took for Blitzers.  
  
He turned the Wakka and inquired about the players.  
  
Wakka replied, "Ya, most of the teams traveled on this airship. The Beasts, Fangs, Glories, and, of course, the Aurochs."  
  
"Ah. What's taking so long?"  
  
"Team introductions."  
  
Weston nodded and looked about him. Only a few non-players had actually taken the airship. Weston recognized a few people from Besaid, including the shopkeeper that so eagerly sold him potatoes every week. He waved and she smiled back at him, the wrinkles on her face curving with the gesture. Wakka leaned over.  
  
"Remember, if anyone asks, you're a new recruit for the Aurochs."  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
"So go over there with the team. We'll meet you in the locker room, ya?"  
  
"Gotcha," Weston replied and slowly made his way to the six men dressed similarly to him.  
  
"So you're that Weston guy, eh? You got a big build. Can ya play?"  
  
Weston smiled to the somewhat thin, dark complexioned man known as Jassu, and replied. "Nah, sorry."  
  
"They don't have it where you come from?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Too bad. You missing out, bud. Maybe the guys and me can teach ya a thing or two sometimes."  
  
"That'd be great."  
  
"Ya," Jassu replied and let a silence come between the seven men.  
  
Weston felt uneasy around them, not knowing them, and wished this day would hurry up and end. But, Weston knew that it would be just his luck for this to be the longest day he's ever had to endure. The line moved a bit more, and after about twenty minutes, the Aurochs were out of the two doors and were introduced to the crowd.  
  
The roar from the crowd nearly blew the team of men back a few feet as the commentators yelled the team's name.  
  
"Bobba, here come those Aurochs. They've won the past two years in a row and they're looking to do it again. I see they have a new team member. Whoever he is, he's going to be great in the sphere!"  
  
"Right Jimma! This team has seen many victories since their renewed talent two years ago. Can they do it once again?"  
  
"I'll bet this month's salary on it, Bobba. This team has been preened and prepped by Wakka himself. And, with the playing influences left behind by Sir Tidus, these guys are unstoppable!"  
  
"Right again, Jimma!"  
  
To this, even more cheers and hollers were heard and the Aurochs were having a tough time making their way down the stairs and onto the concrete dock's walkway. Even on the concrete, the journey was tough. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people crowded along the side of the path, trying to get a chance to talk to or touch the Aurochs. Weston himself received a few grips and squeezes on his walk down the dock's path. When finally at the end, they took a left onto yet another path, a bricked walkway, and headed towards the entrance a few yards away. They entered a lobby and headed right, towards a stairway, and eventually, they crowded into the locker room with the Aurochs' logo illuminated on its door.  
  
Keepa, the bulging goalkeeper said after the team had filed in, "I'll go sign us in, ya? I'll be back in a few."  
  
The team nodded and Keepa left. Weston sighed and sat down, looking up at the small screen in the locker room's far right corner. On it, he could see a large sphere being filled with water. Tons upon tons of people were cheering and jumping in their seats. Weston smirked and mumbled under his breath. "It's like Super Bowl Sunday out there..."  
  
"Wha," asked Jassu.  
  
"Nothing"  
  
"Whatever ya say."  
  
Weston hmmed and continued to watch the screen, almost mesmerized by it. After a few minutes, Keepa returned, sullenly shuffling his feet.  
  
"Wassa matter," asked Jassu.  
  
"We gotta play the Goers first. I mean...I was at least looking for a challenge, ya know?"  
  
Keepa grinned and the men started cheering and laughing, slapping the slightly pudgy man on the back. Weston, of course, stayed seated, not feeling very comfortable cheering with the team.  
  
"What teams play first," Jassu asked Keepa.  
  
"Glories and Beasts are first. Then we get to kick the Goers' butts, and then it's on to the second round. We have ten minutes, so let's get warmed up, ya?"  
  
The team cheered in unison and started to stretch and run in place, popping appendages and tightening their uniforms. Weston still had his eyes glued to the screen, watching the game that had just started, when Yuna, Lulu, Wakka, and Rikku walked in.  
  
Yuna smiled at the team, bowing. "Good luck today. I'll be cheering you on one hundred percent!"  
  
The guys blushed and smiled, while Weston sat there, not really noticing. Wakka spoke next. "Now remember, guys, what is our goal?"  
  
"To win!" they shouted, laughing afterwards.  
  
Rikku and Lulu both gave a good luck wishing and the group left, after saying good-bye, and started heading towards the guest balcony of the stadium.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Well, do you think the guys will win," asked Rikku.  
  
Wakka boasted, "You kiddin' me? 'Course they will. They're Aurochs, right?"  
  
"Right!" the young Al Bhed agreed.  
  
Yuna grinned and approached the two gate guards. But, instead of letting the group go straight through, the taller of the two guards pushed his staff forwards. "Weapons check. We must confiscate any and all weapons."  
  
"Why," asked Lulu. "It wasn't this way last year."  
  
"New procedures. We're wanting air-tight security for the Maestress, and that includes her and her friends."  
  
Yuna nodded. "Let's do as he says, guys."  
  
They all handed over their weapons, albeit reluctantly. Once the guard was satisfied, he let them pass.  
  
"Well, that was odd..." commented Lulu.  
  
Yuna nodded while Rikku gave a curious hum. Wakka was a bit angrier than the rest and grunted.  
  
"Taking our weapons like that. How're we sposed to protect ourselves?"  
  
"Maybe they've had threats," Yuna conjectured.  
  
Rikku hmmed. "But they always have those..."  
  
Yuna sighed but still persisted. "Don't worry. We won't have anything to worry over with the increased security."  
  
--------------------  
  
"And the Beasts have won it! Wow, now that was a game, eh, Jimma?"  
  
"Right, Bobba. The Glories' scoring spree in the first half really crippled the Beasts' defense, but whatever happened during the half must've really gave the Beasts some energy! The defense was an impenetrable wall during the second half and the offense kept scoring! I don't know how they did it, Bobba, but they must've had some kinda magic on their side."  
  
"Must've been that or luck, Jimma, but let me tell you, the Beasts are on fire and looking for that cup. Now, don't go -any-where folks, we have the Goers going up against the Aurochs in about two minutes. This is going to be a tough game to watch, Jimma."  
  
"Right-o Bobba. Edge of your seat action, for sure. The Aurochs have been on fire for nearly two years and the Goers have had all of the off season to study the movie spheres and train hard to get the cup this year. If you ask me, I think the Goers are going to "Go" all out for the win in this one."  
  
"Absolutely correct, Jimma. The Goers are going hard but we can't discredit the Aurochs. Their rise from the ashes was amazing to watch and I don't see them being any lax this year. The opening tournament sets a standard for the rest of the season, and the Aurochs have the opportunity to even further their incredible popularity. Look for the Aurochs to pull off some amazing plays."  
  
"And, personally, Bobba, I can't wait to get this started, so let's go ahead and run off the stats for the two teams and then it's Blitzoff!"  
  
Weston smirked, noting that annoying commentators are hard to escape. Jassu was at the door, cheering the guys into a frenzy.  
  
"Remember! Tight defense and trigger-happy offense, guys! If you get tired, rotate to the back. We've got a long way to go and this is only the beginning! Let's go!"  
  
And with that, they ran out of the locker room and entered the sphere. Weston watched on the screen as the two teams filed into the arena, taking their respective places. A horn sounded at a blue-and-white ball was launched into the air. Letty caught the ball and swam forward, dodging tackles and took a shot at the goal. A female member of the Goers caught the ball and swam forward, breaking a tackle and headed right towards Keepa. She shot, but Keepa blocked it and passed it to Jassu, who took his time getting to the other side of the field. He passed to Datto who shot and missed, a Goer retrieving it afterwards.  
  
Weston hmmed, studying the game. He could probably enjoy this game, but he knew he'd have to be trained in certain techniques. He still didn't understand how they could breath and exert much effort underwater.  
  
Weston watched for the remainder of the half, and while Jimma and Bobba were yapping about the first half -where the Aurochs had "valiantly fended off attack after attack, but couldn't keep two shots from going in"- the team filed in, some heaving, others simply breathing heavy.  
  
"Tough half," Weston commented.  
  
"Wouldn't ya know it," said a slightly flustered Letty, "that the Goers have a bit more talent this year..."  
  
The rest of the team mumbled their "yeahs" and "yups", while Weston just leaned forward and nodded. Why he nodded, he didn't know, but he kept nodding.  
  
After five minutes of catching their breath, the Aurochs were out on the field again. Weston watched as the power struggle continued, the ball being driven back and forth. Finally, Jassu scored a goal and the crowd erupted. Unperturbed by this, the Aurochs led another successful drive a minute later, scoring one more on the board. With only two minutes left, the game was tied, and both defenses were almost airtight. Another minute ticked by and still no score. Datto, fearing a stalemate, took a chance and intercepted a Goer pass. He swam very quickly towards the goal and just barely broke a tackle. Off balance, he took a risk, upside down kick. On it's way to the goal, a Goer got a hand on it, but didn't deter it. A worried Datto cringed as he saw the ball heading right to the goalie. But, it sailed through the goalie's leg and the score buzzer went off. The Aurochs all threw their fists in the air, but right away, they had to defend once again, as the Goers led one last forceful drive. Even the goalie was coming forward, trying to force the score. As the right forward for the Goers got his shot off, the clock hit zero and the crowd all got up on their feet to see if the shot would go in. Keepa had plenty of time to see the ball coming and caught the ball, throwing it up in the air. This caused the crowd to go crazy, the cheering and hooting and hollering all echoing in the water-sphere.  
  
Weston had gotten himself into the game and cheered when the ball was caught. Feeling embarrassed after such an open show of excitement, he sat down with reddened cheeks, even though he knew no one could've heard or seen him.  
  
The players filed in, and surprisingly, Weston was waiting for them, patting each of them on their backs, and acknowledged their wonderful performance. After a few more cheers and pats on the back, the Aurochs' locker room quieted down as the match between the Psyches and the Fangs commenced.  
  
"Whoever wins this one, we get to play," Jassu explained to Weston.  
  
Weston nodded and turned his attention back to the game.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Are your two men in place?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. I just hope they can pull this off."  
  
"They will."  
  
"Thank you, Lord Nyka, for your confidence."  
  
"No need to thank me. Just find that confidence yourself, Daemon."  
  
The nervous councilman walked back to the center of the balcony, where the table for the meeting had been placed.  
  
Nyka impatiently paced the balcony, watching the game from the high vantage point. He scanned the crowd and grinned to himself.  
  
He commented mostly to himself, "Look at how the people of Spira get so wound up in a silly game. So easily manipulated. If a game can get them into this kind of frenzy, just imagine what a passionate and well-spoken leader could do. Yes, I can see all of these people eventually being under our power. Just one wall to tear down before that can happen.  
  
"You see, without a leader, the commoners are just brain dead sheep, looking for their shepherd. Imagine, that after our plans go through, the chaos. They will be looking for a leader to touch them, to guide them, and, ultimately, to control them. Common people can't lead. They must be lead, controlled. Without that control they wander aimlessly. This 'free will' that Yuna promotes in every speech she makes was the downfall of old Spira. Had Yevon and his teachings not come along, this world would be in total and complete ruin by now.  
  
"Yes. Yevon will rule once more. From the ashes of social decay and the disgusting filth that is free will, Yevon will once again rise, to help steer the people of Spira, under his stern hand, to finally achieving purity. But, Yevon's controlling vehicle, Sin, has been truly defeated. We must create that control through other means. We must have total military control of this world, you see. By force or by will, the people will let us in their cities. Let us spread Yevon's word and spread our control. The infidels will be eliminated and the chosen people will inhabit Spira. Of course, this means the Al Bhed will have to be completely wiped from Spira's serene surface, but Yevon himself tells us that all that who oppose him, must die for their sins."  
  
Nyka squinted, as the Fangs scored a goal.  
  
"The Ronso must side with us. They may be beasts, but they've always known the right path. The Guado, too. They've lost their line of leaders and need guidance...I'm quite sure they are ours too. But Yuna's supporters...They could always be converted. Those that don't will have the same fate as the Al Bhed. But I fear that if force is used, we must...'modify' the teachings a bit. Machina would most certainly have to be used."  
  
Nyka's self-assuring speech tapered off as the commentators announced the Fangs' win.  
  
"Good job, Ronso. Teach the infidels that they cannot win. They will never win. Not with the power of Yevon coursing through the righteous people's veins. Yevon is my strength and drive. I will do all in his name and I will not fail. The infidels will be dealt with, the towns and cities taken, and I will not rest until Yevon is spread to every corner of Spira. Two more games to go until Yevon will triumph in his first victory since the Sin disaster. Braska's daughter will die. She will die for her betrayal!"  
  
--------------------  
  
The Aurochs all laughed at Weston.  
  
"What?"  
  
Jassu tried to control himself as he said, "I don't think we should worry about the Fangs, bud. The Psyches have taken our place as the worst team ever, so the Fangs' win wasn't all that great. I mean, they even let the Psyches score!"  
  
The team once again burst into laughter. Weston only shrugged it off and watched the team pile out of the locker room. He turned his attention to the screen and watched as they once again took their places on the field.  
  
Five minutes later, at the half, the score was five to zero in the Aurochs' favor. The team filed back in, congratulated and cheered each other on, and then left, Weston not wanting to say a word due to his worries being proven to be in vain.  
  
Five more minutes later, the Aurochs easily beat the Fangs, allowing one score, which Weston just thought was a sportsmanship maneuver.  
  
The team filed back in and all eyes were glued to the screen. The tournament tree was displayed and all of the branches led to the face off between the Glories and the Aurochs. Quietly, the team shuffled out of the locker room and headed back into the arena.  
  
The Guado team looked almost as strange as the Ronso team had to Weston. The Guado were quite tall and had the oddest colored hair, in Weston's opinion, anyway. The game started and every person in the crowd was up on their feet, watching intently. The Aurochs scored right off, but the Glories answered with a score as well, tying the game with only a minute gone from the clock. Weston scooted forward on the bench and eagerly anticipated the next play.  
  
--------------------  
  
"It's good to see you, Maestress."  
  
"Thank you, Lord Nyka. I pray you've enjoyed the games so far?"  
  
"Yes, they've been quite hair-raising, I must say. I'll present you with the treaty at the half, and we can commence the meeting then. I pray we will have good news to share with the people at the end of the game. Now, let's take our seats and enjoy the game."  
  
Yuna smiled and sat next to Nyka, the other New Yevon councilmen on her left.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston growled as the Glories scored once more. There was only one minute left on the clock and Jassu looked determined. Datto won the ball at the Blitzoff, and immediately passed it to Jassu. Jassu then swam full force towards the opposing goal. He was going to score, even if it took him beyond his limit. He was only a few yards from the goal and the defense was closing in. He looked to his left and right. Defenders were circling him. He gritted his teeth and lunged forward.  
  
The impact looked especially gruesome in the water. Jassu's nose and mouth immediately shot a smoky red cloud into the water as the Guado's elbow slid off of his face. The ball dropped and the Glories' right forward immediately grabbed it, heading towards the Aurochs' goal.  
  
Jassu was obviously unconscious as he slowly floated downward, blood cloud trailing him. The buzzer rang before the Glories' could take a shot and the Aurochs all crowded around their fallen comrade, Keepa being chosen to drag him back to the locker room.  
  
Weston, being so shocked and angered, had missed most of the crowd's reaction and Jimma and Bobba's yapping about how fouls need to be properly called. He also missed the locker room door opening. While he was grumbling, the Aurochs quickly set Jassu on a bench and an X-Potion was used. The Auroch came to, but was still weak from the hit, his nose more than likely broken.  
  
Weston sighed. "He ok?"  
  
Datto nodded. "He'll be fine. Still to weak to play..."  
  
And Weston could tell from the hint what was coming next. The Aurochs all slowly looked up at him as their fallen team mate groaned.  
  
Weston sighed. "You're going to have to carry me. I've never played this before."  
  
"You'll do fine, bud. You been watching on the screen," asked Datto  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Then just do what you've seen done."  
  
"...Ok..."  
  
The half was almost over and the team started filing out of the door. Nervous, Weston waited a few moments before heading out. Datto laughed and urged him on.  
  
"Come on. It won't be as bad as you think, ya?"  
  
Weston sighed and nodded and the door slid open. Before him was a wall of water and Datto effortlessly walked into it, swimming towards the center of the field.  
  
Weston sucked in a breath and walked forward. He felt the cool water envelop him and his first reaction was to try to hold his breath. He held it as long as he could and felt his lungs empty when he let the breath escape into the water.  
  
He gasped and sucked in another breath, awaiting the water to fill his lungs. But, instead, the water dissolved as he breathed in and it was as light as air, traveling down his lungs. Surprised, Weston began swimming towards the field.  
  
--------------------  
  
"That's...that's Weston!" shouted Wakka.  
  
"It...sure is!" affirmed Lulu.  
  
Rikku just leaned forward and stared in total shock.  
  
The three sat there, silent, watching as the stranger claiming to hail from 'The United States', a man with no ties to Spira, swim towards a Left forward position.  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna had to admit, seeing Weston in the sphere totally shocked her. Nyka, too, was shocked and leaned over to the Maestress.  
  
"A secret weapon, perhaps? Or something you weren't expecting. You look rather surprised."  
  
She blushed and shook her head. "No. Just, I didn't expect to see our new recruit out on the field today."  
  
Nyka nodded. "Everyone gets their chance." And he added silently to himself, "And I'll have mine soon..."  
  
--------------------  
  
"Look at this, Jimma! Besaid's new recruit is on the field! We'll get to see what he's made of!"  
  
"And I'm sure he's quite the player, Bobba. Trained with the Aurochs, he's bound to have star talent. Let's just hope he can fill Jassu's shoes!"  
  
"And here's the Blitzoff!"  
  
Weston watched as the Guado forward took the blitzball. He didn't know exactly what his job was at this point, but he was quickly taught.  
  
Datto yelled, "Get 'em!"  
  
And Weston, to the best of his ability, swam towards the lumbering player. He read the player's body language and quickly banked right, hitting the Guado full force with his shoulder. The ball was loose and Weston fought his momentum and tried to pick it up. Another Glories player swam underneath him and took the ball. Weston grunted shifted his body weight to his feet. His sandaled feet made contact with the Guado's back and he had to stop himself from 'drilling' the player into the floor of the sphere. Datto swam by and got the ball. Once again, Weston was at a loss, but as usual, he was told very quickly as to what his duty was.  
  
Letty punched Weston on the shoulder, hard. "Time to block the defenders!"  
  
Weston nodded and followed Letty, trying to keep up. Quickly, Weston was learning how tiring the game of Blitzball was. He made contact with a Guado and the two tangled there for a moment. Since Weston was concentrating on keeping the player at bay, he didn't notice the buzzer going off. The Guado immediately freed himself and shoved Weston back towards his side.  
  
Not the moment Weston was back into formation, the ball was launched again. Datto caught it and swam forward. Weston followed him and found himself staring at two defenders, one being the one who had hit Jassu so hard in the first half. Datto was covered, but he knew better than to let himself be defeated. He tossed the ball to Weston, who caught it, and yelled. "Go for it!"  
  
And Weston gladly did so. He lunged forward while Datto held on of the defenders at bay. The defender that had attacked Jassu jumped up, but was quickly put back in his place as all of Weston's weight landed atop his head. Weston leaped off of the foot planted squarely on the Guado's head and threw the ball up in front of him. He drew back his arm and hit the ball with the hardest punch he could muster. The ball sailed towards the goal and zoomed right past the goalies' head, leaving the Guado at the goal a little more than stunned. The buzzer went off and the Aurochs were up one.  
  
The crowd enjoyed the violent yet graceful show of athleticism and every single seat in the stadium was empty, including the conference balcony. The mounds of people standing made the stadium seem even larger from inside the sphere. But the teams couldn't have cared. There was still two minutes left of grueling play.  
  
The ball was launched and the Glories had control. The ball eventually found it's way to Weston's stepping stool and the Guado was already charging towards the US soldier. Weston braced himself and when the two impacted, a great hush silenced the crowd's roars.  
  
Weston rolled back into position as the stunned Guado tried to regain his stance. Letty already was on his way to scoring. When the buzzer went off, the crowd once again cheered.  
  
Weston reformed with the rest of the team and awaited what would probably be the last Blitzoff.  
  
The ball launched into the air and Datto snatched it from the Guado's reach. He cupped it against his chest and swam forward, the rest of the Aurochs following. The crowd hushed as the seconds ticked by. Datto was swimming in circles, trying to devour the time as much as he could. At fifteen seconds left, he shot and missed, but it didn't matter. The Aurochs had the cup and the remaining fifteen seconds shot by, not allowing the Glories enough time for a chance to score.  
  
Weston heaved a great sigh in the water and laughed, his body slightly aching from all the activity. The two teams headed back into the locker room area, the Aurochs all applauding Weston's performance. Humble, Weston only smiled, not bragging or boasting. He just simply responded, "I did what I thought needed to be done."  
  
--------------------  
  
"Where...how...wha," asked a confused Wakka.  
  
"I agree..." said a shocked Lulu.  
  
Rikku, kept her face in constant shock mode.  
  
The three had never expected that type of talent from Weston, especially in Blitzball. They didn't really care that the Aurochs won, they just wanted to know how in all of Spira had Weston been able to do what he had just done.  
  
Rikku let out a small squeak and the others nodded.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Well, Yuna, I must say you had quite the talented recruit hidden under your sleeve."  
  
Yuna couldn't really comment. Her mouth was too far open to make any legible speech.  
  
"I see that you're as surprised as I. But, let's get the win behind us and tell the people the wonderful news."  
  
Yuna blinked out of her daze and nodded.  
  
Nyka smiled and shifted back towards the table. Yuna followed and the two were soon headed to the balcony from where all announcements were made.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Let's head to the gate. Yuna should be there any moment," Wakka suggested.  
  
Lulu and Rikku nodded and followed the Auroch to the gate.  
  
Oddly, the two guards that had been there before the games had started were gone. "Strange," commented Lulu.  
  
"Ya. Well, let's wait here. We can see the main balcony from here, anyway."  
  
--------------------  
  
"People of Spira. Today we have witnessed bouts of pure athleticism. The winners and losers are still equal in their efforts, and therefore should be respected. But one team did come out on top, and the Aurochs are the winners of the Tournament."  
  
Nyka then waited for the teams to find their way to the balcony. The Aurochs led the other teams and soon, they were all filed onto the small balcony, some of the teams' members having to stand on the edge of the balcony's shoulder.  
  
"You have all fought valiantly today, and proved your worth as sportsmen. Will the captain of the Aurochs please come forward to claim his team's prize?"  
  
Datto, who had been chosen to take Jassu's place as captain for the time being, stepped forward and took the large trophy, raising it high and proud, causing the crowd to erupt into fanfare. Weston couldn't help but to grin. He had been apart of the win and it made him feel proud to have Datto holding that trophy up.  
  
"Congratulations, Aurochs, you have proven yourselves to be the top Blitzball players in all of Spira. I, and, I'm sure, all of Spira looks forward to the upcoming season's matches. Now, if I may, I, with the blessing of Yuna, have an announcement to make. During halftime of the last game, Yuna and the New Yevon council signed a peace treaty, marking peace between the two parties."  
  
The crowd once again roared. Nyka flashed a smile and raised his hands, telling them to calm themselves.  
  
"The New Yevon council and the Maestress pray that all of you will hold this treaty to heart and not judge solely based on spiritual beliefs. Every citizen of Spira is a sibling to another. We are all related, as Spira's people. Thank you."  
  
He stepped back from the podium as the crowd continued its cheers. The two teams filed out, and Yuna bid her goodbyes to the Council.  
  
Nyka grinned to himself and nodded to his fellow councilmen. A few of them were nervous, others grinning just as confidently as Nyka.  
  
"The time is near, gentlemen. Remember to keep sad faces. We cannot show our guilt. I've already gotten a drafted speech ready, and I'll make it tomorrow."  
  
The council nodded to their leader and Nyka paced back towards the front podium, looking at the emptying crowds.  
  
"Yes, indeed, the time is near."  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna found Lulu, Rikku, and Wakka waiting by the gate. They all hugged her and congratulated her on the treaty.  
  
Lulu, a bit apprehensive still, asked Yuna what she had thought of the treaty.  
  
"It looked very sincere. Nyka was so confident that this could help unite the people of Spira, I could not refuse him."  
  
Lulu nodded and Wakka began to comment excitedly on Weston's performance.  
  
"Did ya see how he just punched the ball right in there!? It was like he's done it all his life, ya?"  
  
Yuna laughed. "Yes, Wakka, I too was surprised at Weston's play. I didn't even expect to see him playing, let alone score."  
  
"And on defense! He can really mow 'em down!"  
  
Lulu laughed, shaking her head. "Yes, Wakka, he was quite amazing."  
  
Wakka laughed and Rikku elbowed him in the side.  
  
"Don't get so excited. What if that was just a fluke?"  
  
"Bah, playing like that isn't a fluke, Rikku."  
  
They all laughed and began walking back towards the docks, not aware of the figure running towards them.  
  
--------------------  
  
"There you guys are! Talk about hard to track down."  
  
Yuna smiled. "Good game, Weston. I was very surprised at your performance."  
  
Weston grinned, trying to catch his breath. "Yeah, so was I. But like I told the guys, I was just doing what I thought needed to be done."  
  
Wakka laughed. "Yeah, sure thing brudda. And I'm covered in purple fur. Quit being so modest. You were a star out there."  
  
Weston blushed a bit and shook his head, scratching at the back of his neck. "Nah. Just mimicking the others."  
  
Wakka grinned. "Too modest, ya?"  
  
Lulu nodded. "I agree."  
  
Rikku smiled and playfully punched at Weston's stomach. "Where'd you learn to punch like that? That ball went flying into the goal."  
  
Weston feigned a few oofs as she playfully pummeled his stomach and finally answered, "The Army."  
  
"This 'Army' must know a lot."  
  
"More than some people would like," replied Weston.  
  
Rikku stared at him and he ruffled her hair. "Don't mind me, I'm just cynical." She smiled and swatted at his hand.  
  
Soon, they were near their dock. Lulu stopped, and the others did as well.  
  
"What is it," asked Yuna.  
  
Lulu replied, "Were those two guards there when we arrived?"  
  
Yuna shook her head, but reminded Lulu of the increased security. Lulu growled and whispered something to her. Yuna nodded and started to turn, causing the rest of the group to do so as well. But before they could head back, the two guards were upon them.  
  
--------------------  
  
"May I help you, sirs," asked Yuna.  
  
One of the guards, the taller one, had a sort of rifle looking object in his hand and Weston immediately realized that the man's finger was on a very old-style trigger. The weapon lowered and was aiming right at Yuna's chest. Yuna and the rest of the group immediately put up their hands, save Rikku.  
  
"What's the meaning of this," asked the angering Al Bhed.  
  
"The Maestress has been ordered to die."  
  
Rikku blinked, and then shouted, "What?!", causing the crowd on the side of the docks and pathway to turn their attention to what was going on.  
  
Yuna sighed shakily, and slowly said, "You may have me, but please let my friends go. They have nothing to do with this."  
  
"Agreed," said the shorter guard, who carried a doubled-edged sword, unsheathed.  
  
"But Yunie!" yelled a distraught Rikku. Wakka, despite the scowl, was more or less a deer in headlights. Rikku yelled, "Lulu, use your magic!"  
  
Lulu sighed, shaking her head. "I cannot. They have Reflect cast..."  
  
The guards seem to laugh at this, and for the first time, Rikku got a glimpse at an eye glinting through a hole in the guard's visor.  
  
"The same guards who took our weapons!" yelled the Al Bhed. Once again the guards laughed and pushed slightly forward. Rikku looked from the guards to Yuna and back again, trying to decide on what to do.  
  
"Your friends will leave now, Maestress," said the shorter guard.  
  
Yuna nodded. "Please go."  
  
Rikku refused, as did the others, quite verbally.  
  
This whole situation flicked a switch within Weston, and he knew he'd have to do something soon; otherwise, Yuna would be dead.  
  
Slowly, he inched forward, taking the sword-wielding guard's attention from Yuna.  
  
Weston raised his hands higher. "Easy. Easy. I'm just leaving for the dock."  
  
The guard nodded and Weston slowly walked beside the guard but slowed even more. As all eyes from the crowd were on the incident, Weston's right arm quickly shot up and two extended fingers hit and dug into the shorter guard's throat. The guard dropped the sword and started gasping for air, his windpipe crushed by the force of the blow. With the shorter guard now convulsing on the ground, Weston spun around, and, in what seemed forever, grabbed the other, taller guard's weapon and tore it from his hands. The guard grabbed Weston by the shoulders and soon, the two were entangled, the rifle's barrel sticking into the flesh under the guard's chin, digging into the soft underbelly of his mouth. The two men's eyes were locked, arms wrapped together, the guard's hand on his dagger and Weston's finger square on the trigger of the weapon, a slight pressure already being exerted on it. All Weston needed was to feel the guard's body weight shift, and things would end. Almost in slow motion, the guard's hand gripped the handle of the dagger, making a slight shift in his position.  
  
Weston pulled the trigger.  
  
Post A/N: WHEW...finally done with this. I've spent over 19 hours on this chapter. 12 of those were STRAIGHT hours in a row. I had bloodshot eyes that night. Man. Anyway, things are definitely heating up ^^ and Weston is strutting his stuff, eh? The next few chapters won't be as long as this one (mainly because this took a lot out of me) but after a few more stuff happens, expect really long chapters that are far...VERY far from boring. ^^;; Hope you enjoyed this one. I sure spent long enough on it. And if there are any spelling errors etc, please keep in mind that I was up from 12pm to 2am, writing this chapter. This WILL be proofread, but right now, I just wanna post this bad boy. ~No One 


	8. Chapter 8: Boiling Point

Chapter 8: Boiling Point  
  
The streets of Bevelle were alive with the sound of whispered rumors, accusations, and conspiracy theories. The assassination attempt had rocked all of Spira, the news of the prevented attack spreading like wildfire, ear- to-ear and sphere-to-sphere. It had taken only two days for the news to trickle down from the witnesses to their friends and so on. The story of how the newest Auroch killed the two Crusader guards with more agility and speed than he had shown in the Annual Tournament was enthralling commoners and politicians alike. The hushed talk of the 'Blitzball Soldier' reached across every street, path, and alleyway it could find and had even already made it into historical manuscripts at the temples.  
  
The attempt both shocked and unnerved Yuna's followers and even upset the Yevonites, to a degree. An attempt on someone's life, in cold blood, went against the teachings, thus making both Yevonites and Yuna's followers wonder as to who was -truly- to blame.  
  
The Crusaders were, of course, getting questioned and probed and talk of disbandment was circulating just as fast as the account of the attempt. The security forces made up of Crusaders were in danger of being stripped of their duty and sent back to their respective homes, making the common people of the larger towns, Luca and Bevelle especially, antsy as to the condition and morale of their city's protection.  
  
Nyka, who had taken the positive acknowledgment for handling the assassination attempt well by most of Spira's citizens, was promising that, if the Bevelle council would be given more power, the protection of an army would be instated, and the people would no longer have any worries. He also stressed that the army would be made up of good, proud, and well-trained Yevonite men.  
  
His speech was empowered with appeal to the Yevon ideals, to which a lot of former believers were returning to, in light of recent events. An almost militaristic vein took a back burner to attaining support for putting himself into power.  
  
Nyka cleared his throat, looking down upon the thousands and thousands of people staring up at him, waiting for his take on the recent events.  
  
"My dear, dear Bevellians, Yevonites, and supporters. Two days ago, two Crusader guards tried to take the life of Maestress Yuna, daughter of High Summoner Braska. Thanks to the timely efforts of one of her cohorts, she is alive today. But, my friends, my fellow believers, this incident marks a new and changing era for the lands of Yevon. The Crusaders, always thought to be heathenish, have tried to commit an act against Yevon: Murder in the coldest degree. A calculated, planned, and focused attack on a powerful and loved figure in Spira. The Crusaders are blasphemous. Now, I do know that only two of thousands committed the act, but I must stress that one rotten apple ruins the -entire- bunch. These two men would not have even had the chance, had their comrades kept them in line. This shows all of Spira that the Crusaders can -not- be trusted any longer. They -must- be disbanded, for the sake of Spira.  
  
"Now, on to merrier topics. Hear me, Bevellians, Yevonites, and all of Spira. I have a vision. I see a Spira with a spiritually charged army of Proud Yevonites. An army made up of men proud to serve the will of Yevon and protect Yevon's cities. An army that will help save lives rather than take them. And with great leaders at its helm, this army will make Spira and Yevon proud.  
  
"But alas, my friends, my fellow citizens, this vision can not be realized without -your- support. The Council will set forth a motion, and in one week's time, the Councilmen will vote on this motion. Please, inform your councilman of which way you'd like him to vote.  
  
"It is my hope to bring order and joy back to Spira's -true- people. As leader of the United Councils, I promise only the best to come, my friends. Spira will be a fellowship once more, one based on trust, loyalty, and spiritual conscience. Thank you." Of course, the crowd erupted into cheers and praise below the Bevelle Temple's veranda, since most of the audience was the concentrated Youth Alliance members, nearly the entire Yevon supporting populous of Bevelle. The Council members were all seated behind the standing form of Nyka, including Fagan.  
  
Fagan twitched in his seat. He knew the underlying message of the promising rhetoric Nyka fed the people. It was clear as a bright summer's day. Nyka wanted power, and when he had that power -which Fagan had no doubt Nyka would attain soon-, he'd go after all those that oppose him.  
  
The cheers soon calmed as the people of Bevelle returned to their daily lives, the Sphere-recorders from Luca leaving for their boats, and the other visitors walking, riding, or boating back to their respective areas. Nyka turned to the Councilmen, grinning.  
  
"I say we have a fair chance of bringing the people what we promise, would you not agree, Fagan?"  
  
The young councilman jumped at the mention of his name, nodding quickly in response, but still lost in his own thoughts.  
  
"Good. Now, gentlemen. I want each of you to go to your districts and 'listen' to your people. I want this army, and I want it yesterday, understand?"  
  
A hushed agreement was given to the standing Nyka and the men began to file out of the veranda.  
  
Fagan's thin shoulders were almost through the wide doorframe, but a tight grip on his shoulder turned him around, surprising the wiry young man.  
  
"Don't be so jumpy, Fagan." Nyka grinned, his steely gray eyes locking onto Fagan's milky hazels.  
  
Fagan cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
"You look tense, young one. Troubles?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"You know what Yevon says about lying, don't you, my dear Fagan?"  
  
" 'To lie is to give into the temptation that befell Spira and the same temptation that which caused Sin to arise.' "  
  
"Good. Now, tell the truth, Fagan."  
  
"I'm nervous, sir."  
  
"Over what, my dear boy?"  
  
"This whole...situation. The army, the failed assassination attempt."  
  
"You fear for such little of circumstances, Fagan. You mustn't worry. Everything will all fall into our hands. We are Yevon's will, his messengers. This is what he wills, and we will obey, correct? We must serve Yevon as he will serve us once we reach the Farplane."  
  
Fagan nodded meekly and stepped out, shaking off the unnerving feeling he was getting. Something just didn't settle right with him. He made his way down the large stone steps and turned onto a road that would lead him back to his home.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston sighed, his back aching from having to pull the heavy luggage from the ship.  
  
"You helped with the renovations well, Weston. Jus', we need the work on the ship now, as it's operational once more, ya?"  
  
"'Ya'," mocked Weston, who's face had gone red, beads of sweat falling down his forehead. Wakka could tell the young man was tired and took the trunk from him.  
  
"Thanks," Weston barely managed.  
  
"You tire too easily, eh?"  
  
"I've been working since dawn. It's nearly...three in the afternoon. I haven't even had lunch yet."  
  
"Hey, don't blame me, you're the one who loves to work so hard."  
  
"Eh..." and the rest was muddled as Weston walked away, leaving Wakka to take care of the rest of the heavy trunks.  
  
Jassu, whose hands were full of fruit baskets, nodded towards the shrinking form of Weston.  
  
"Sup with him?"  
  
"I dunno. He's been real irritable since the 'incident'."  
  
"Ya. Guess killin' two guys'll do that to ya."  
  
"I dun think it's that, Jassu. He...did it so easily, ya know? Just, -boom- and they were dead. I hardly saw him move."  
  
"Ya...You hear about what's happenin' in Bevelle? That prick Nyka is trying to get an Army of Yevon formed. What's he thinkin'?"  
  
Wakka raised an eyebrow." You tryin' to pull my leg? Nyka's trying to get an Army?" "Yup. Heard about it from a sphere my nephew took while in Bevelle. Got the whole speech. Let you hear it later."  
  
Wakka, still stunned from the news, only stood there, mouth open, a large trunk teetering back and forth on his shoulder.  
  
Jassu grinned and shook his head. "We can view it at the temple later, with everyone there."  
  
Wakka nodded slowly and set the trunk down, not worrying over it as he began a dead run to Yuna's hut.  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna sighed as she looked out to the ocean. Her hut had a nice view of the shore, and the surging tide was surely helping the view gain the young girl's full attention.  
  
A sigh escaped from within and her hands came up to wipe away a few stifled tears. Her chin was quivering, and she was trying not to let her thoughts get to her. Her mind shifted, from that night, in the woods, to how she was going to deal with the mounting pressure.  
  
The sigh grew into a moan, and a sob crept its way up to her throat. From there, it only got worse. Her pillar, Tidus, was gone forever, as far as she was concerned. As her hope of his return had died, so did a little piece of the young girl that had fallen in love with the Zanarkand native. As she grew older, wiser, she began to look at things with that analytical side that only a hardened soul could utilize. Gone was the intuitive, hopeful young Summoner, and in its place was a tortured, hardening young woman who would have to make some of the biggest decisions of her life in the next few months.  
  
But, she'd have to make it through today before moving on, and Wakka was about to bring her grave news.  
  
--------------------  
  
The small sphere whirred, and the image faded. Yuna stood there, eyes locked to the small viewing device, her mouth open from shock.  
  
Weston smirked. "Even Spira has its dictators."  
  
Yuna, Lulu, and Wakka shot him a cold glance and his smirk faded.  
  
Yuna's soft voice filled the hush that followed afterwards. "He's going too far." Wakka nodded, and crossed his arms, fingers stroking his chin. "But why would he need an Army? Don't make any sense."  
  
Weston sighed and walked around in the small temple book room, eyes fixed to the sphere. "It's simple, really. He wants to spread his "word" all over Spira. And he's taking the easy way out: violence. He's going to move that army and forcibly take towns, forcing his rule on people who aren't even followers of the Yevon religion. Oldest trick in the book..."  
  
The others looked to him, as if signaling him to go on.  
  
Weston hmmed and continued, after melding the thoughts in his head into plausible sentences. "He'll get this army, I know it. That speech could swoon anyone not smart enough to follow politics..." Weston looked to Yuna. "You do know what this means, don't you?"  
  
Yuna jumped, looking a little surprised. "W..what?"  
  
Weston's countenance went a few more shades serious. "If you don't do something to counteract his move, all of Spira will be Nyka's for the taking."  
  
Yuna sighed, already knowing what Weston was getting at. "I don't want to provoke him. I want to talk to him civilly. There's no need for violence, and doing anything along the same lines as he is will just result in more conflict."  
  
Weston sighed, groaning to himself. "Yuna, the world is shaped, molded with blood. Conflict feeds conflict, a life for a life. Violence has always been and always will be the only deciding factor in world politics. Words mean nothing without action. You can sign treaties, you can make promises, but you can't stop death and destruction from becoming the key solution to your problem in the end. You can put a veil over it, but it's still there, no matter how much you want to believe otherwise."  
  
Yuna's face grew slightly red and Weston took this as his queue to vacate. A few moments later, Weston's face met the sunny afternoon sky.  
  
--------------------  
  
"So it's decided. I'll visit Nyka and talk with him about this army. I'll get the information straight from him."  
  
Wakka and Lulu patted Yuna's shoulders and smiled. A moment later, Yuna boarded Cid's airship and was on her way to Bevelle.  
  
Wakka turned to Lulu and sighed. "I dun like this Lu. I dun like this one bit."  
  
Lulu sighed as well, nodding. "Neither do I. I have a feeling that this won't end in a simple conversation."  
  
Wakka looked to the sky, eyes squinting in the bright light. "They dun make conversations complex enough to solve this..."  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston sighed, watching the airship leave from his squatted position on the beach. Once it was out of view, his gaze turned to the ocean. Every ripple reflected the sunlight, causing Weston's eyes to squint. It was hard for him to focus on the water, so he turned his attention to his palms. Despite it being so warm, his skin was covered in goose bumps and his fingers were spasming uncontrollably. Something had awakened in Weston the day of the assassination attempt. It wasn't necessarily a flame or an urge, but a queasy uneasiness, almost as if he were awaiting something to happen. Weston's skills as a soldier were only three years strong, but his training was top notch, and there was no denying it. He had had this feeling before.  
  
The anxiousness any semi-green soldier had before a mission was famous. He had felt it in Columbia and in Hong Kong. When he dropped into the Mayan ruins, hunting for the downed fighter pilots, his heart was in his chest and he could barely control his spasms. But, once his feet hit ground, and his eyes focused on the dense jungle ahead, he had cleared his mind, his M4 Carbine becoming just an extension of his arms, the fifty or so pounds on his back child's play.  
  
And then, he saw them. Two brown, gleaming eyes staring back at him, AK raising, ready to put a few bullets into Weston's body. The reaction had taken less than a millisecond, and those two eyes rolled back, the AK flying into the air. A dense cloud, mostly consisting of spent blood and brain matter, float up into the air. A sickening gargling sound came from the dying man's throat as Weston approached the fallen Rebel. Those brown eyes rolled back and fixed onto Weston's own. The emotion was unmistakable: shock. Weston fired a shot into the man's forehead, and the eyes ceased to glimmer. Weston closed his eyes and buried the emotions deep in his mind, his only goal to complete the mission. Those eyes, however, would forever haunt him.  
  
It was those eyes he saw every time he looked at his palms. One eye to each of his pale, large palms. The eyes had that same expression: shock. But they also shone with an overbearing guilt. A guilt that grew heavier on Weston with each kill.  
  
These past two kills had been extremely easy. It was obvious the men weren't military, meaning that they weren't 'Crusaders' as Yuna had called them. They were just hired men dressed in stolen uniforms. Obviously, one of Nyka's tricks.  
  
Weston growled, squinting his eyes into the sun, a bit of bile coming into the back of his throat, as he grew angrier. Yuna wouldn't listen to him until it was too late. Weston just wondered how many people were going to die before Yuna would wise up.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Maestress Yuna, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?"  
  
Yuna smiled to the aging form of Nyka. "I'm fine, but a little worried."  
  
"My, my, child. We cannot have the most beloved figure in all of Spira worried. Please, sit, and tell me what you're worried about."  
  
The old council leader sat and motioned to a seat across from the large wooden desk he sat behind.  
  
Yuna smiled and nodded, picking up her skirt and sitting politely. Nyka smiled and motioned for her to begin.  
  
Yuna bit her bottom lip and cleared her throat before finally speaking. "I'm worried over reports that you're trying to form an army..."  
  
"Why worry over that, child? The Crusaders have broken the law, and I believe an army of truehearted men would serve this city better. It's merely for this city's protection."  
  
Yuna sighed, obviously relieved.  
  
Nyka smiled. "Is that all?"  
  
She nodded and he stood, smiling. "Glad I could help. Why don't you stay in town awhile? I'll arrange for a hotel room."  
  
She nodded once more, not wanting to seem evasive. "Well, I'd have to contact my friends..."  
  
He grinned. "Of course. Take all the time you need."  
  
She bowed and left the office. Nyka sat down and frowned, shuffling some papers on his desk. He called to his assistant, who immediately rushed to his side.  
  
"Get the hotel situated...and talk to my grandson, Logan, the merchant. Tell him to be at Hotel Bevelle's bar in two hours."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"And, if he asks, tell him he's to meet with Yuna. That should get him pretty excited."  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"One more thing."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Get me a photographer...I feel I need some sphere-shots to go onto support posters."  
  
The assistant nodded. "Yessir, right away." The young man left without another peep.  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna sighed and sat down at the large wooden bar, wondering why Nyka had insisted she be here at exactly six. She didn't have to wait for long.  
  
A young, wispy haired gentleman barged in and sat down right next to her with a smile. He introduced himself as Logan, Lord Nyka's eldest grandson. Of course, she was as polite as she could be, smiling and conversing with this Logan for some time.  
  
After about an hour of mainly his babbling on and on about his business, she told him she was quite tired and needed her rest. He smiled and asked something she wasn't really ready for.  
  
"Before you go, can I have one kiss from you, Lady Summoner? You've done so much good for Spira, I just can't help but want tell everyone at the shop that I've kissed the great Lady Yuna."  
  
Yuna smiled and lightly pecked his lips. His cheeks blushed and he left with a smile, leaving her to make the trip up two flights of stairs to her nicely endowed suite, courtesy of Nyka.  
  
She collapsed onto the bed, not bothering with her clothes, and quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.  
  
--------------------  
  
"You've taken the pictures?"  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"Can I have them by tomorrow. I'll be making an announcement at three."  
  
"You'll have them by noon, guaranteed."  
  
"Good, you've done well."  
  
"Thank you, my lord."  
  
--------------------  
  
Sorry this took so long. I'd explain, but it'd take years. Lemme just sum it up: School, Strep Throat, Family Illness, Kingdom Hearts ^^ and Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Anyway, expect Chapter 9 very soon, because I've been writing ahead these past two months or so. I've got snippets of chapters all the way up to 20 ^^ Sorry again, and I'll promise to be quicker about the next few updates. ~ No One 


	9. Chapter 9: And It All Comes Tumbling Dow...

Chapter 9: And It All Comes Tumbling Down  
  
Weston peered over the densely unkempt hill, the sun's rays long hidden by the gray miasma. The ground was littered with jaggedly edged metal scraps, shattered weaponry, and the remnants of many broken and lost lives. He then looked to his wounds, remembering where each had come from, two of them fresh and bleeding from this, the final battle.  
  
The weapon in his hand was hot from being fired so many times. It surprised him that it hadn't jammed.  
  
As he fired the last shot into the ground, its empty magazine being shot from the chamber by a spring mechanism, he smirked. "I suppose Al-Bhed ingenuity has outdone even the finest American weapon..."  
  
"Sir, we done here?"  
  
"Looks that way."  
  
"Didn't expect so much...trouble."  
  
"That's what happens when people are easily susceptible to a power hungry lunatic. Lots of death."  
  
"Think its over?"  
  
"I doubt we'll have much more fighting to do, if any. The city secure?"  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"Good. Go ahead and get out of here."  
  
The soldier left Weston to his thoughts. He had been through more than most people would ever experience in their entire life. All Weston could focus on was how the world of Spira had gotten to this state.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Nyka's Army is going for Kilika," the shaken aide told Yuna.  
  
The young Maestress bit her bottom lip in thought, trying to turn away from the most obvious, but deadly choice.  
  
Over the past three months, Nyka had hastily put together an army of former Crusaders and New Yevonites, taking in anyone who wanted to join. From this, he got a force comprised of disgruntled sword bearers and trained military men. However, the majority of the army was the former, seeing as the Crusaders had seemed to take a disliking to Nyka after he lobbied for and eventually won the disbandment of the group. The army had been training for less than a month when the Two Councils pronounced their independence from Yuna's influence and started to move their army, slowly, out of Bevelle, mainly as a recruitment drive. But, recently, reports of non-Yevonites being imprisoned and executed worried Yuna and her compatriots. She had sent a letter begging for Nyka, if these reports -were- true, to desist and go about his business with the etiquette of a Yevon Maester, since the aging man had proclaimed himself so.  
  
Of course, what had started all of this was Nyka posting photos around Bevelle, discrediting Yuna as "wholesome" and proclaiming that not even famous and 'worthy' leaders could be trusted. The fickle Yevonites had bought it hook, line, and sinker and a public outcry spread over Spira to rid Yuna of any credibility she had ever gained. This, once and for all, divided the people of Spira: those with Nyka and those with Yuna.  
  
The plus side to all of this was that, after being treated so horribly by the Yevonites, most of the Crusaders vowed to protect Yuna and her good name. Clashes between the Crusaders and the Yevonites had begun in Bevelle and Spread to Luca and even as far as Kilika. They weren't violent, per say, but they were incredibly disheartening to both peoples, and this only fed the heresy and accusations. In Luca, people were preparing for what the Spherecasters called the "War of Civil Unrest." In Bevelle, people were preparing to send their sons and husbands off to fight for the -true- way, the Yevon way.  
  
Yuna had yet to supply any decent offense to Nyka's actions and the people that sided with the former Summoner were growing weary. Yuna had been pressured to do many things, from striking up a treaty to sending every last Crusader into the heart of Bevelle to kill Nyka.  
  
But, as the situation finally clicked, she made a choice that would shape the rest of this 'conflict'.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Weston?"  
  
"Come in."  
  
Yuna hunched forward, barely making Weston's bulky frame out in the darkness of the house. "I need to ask your advice..."  
  
Weston moved from the corner, his countenance less that 'happy' by a long shot.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I've...made a choice. I've just heard now that Nyka is sending his army to Kilika. I...I want them stopped."  
  
Weston nodded, cracking his neck with a tilt of his head. "How big of a force?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Great," Weston sarcastically remarked.  
  
Yuna sighed. "What should I do?"  
  
"I'd recommend matching or bettering his force, but since you don't know what kind of force is coming..."  
  
"I think it's one of his 'Holy Teams'."  
  
"And those are?"  
  
"A group of about...ten men...that basically promote Yevon's will."  
  
"Also known as 'Propagandists' or, if you wanna go technical, a group of men trained to kill those who don't want to do what they tell them to do."  
  
Yuna blinked. Weston saw this and raised a hand, sighing.  
  
"So I should send ten Crusaders there, in my name, to tell them they're not wanted?"  
  
Weston grinned at this. "More or less."  
  
Yuna hmmed in thought, while Weston crossed his arms, waiting for her to say what she needed to.  
  
"Do you think-"  
  
"I'll go."  
  
Yuna smiled. "Thank you."  
  
"I need to get out of the house anyway."  
  
Yuna continued to smile, bowing on her way out.  
  
When the door shut, Weston sighed and dropped into his couch, not really knowing what to expect. He sighed, trying to prepare himself, locking all other thoughts. He didn't think it'd come down to anything more than a verbal fight but, he'd go prepared for the worst.  
  
And thinking of this made him immediately go to his night table, pulling his SOCOM pistol from the drawer. He brought it up to his face, studying it. He pulled the slide back and let go, letting the unloaded gun chamber a phantom round. With the flick of his wrist, the gun shot into the air and the hammer clicked against the phantom primer. Weston knew the shot was on target, and could imagine it busting through his couch's back.  
  
Weston squinted his eyes and set the gun down with a sigh, trying to shake his anxiety, which had been growing since he'd heard Nyka's speech months ago. He was shivering again, which he was increasingly trying to control, but was having trouble doing so.  
  
As he sat down again, he gripped his wrist, watching his fingers flex and grip an imaginary object. He could feel his pulse through his skin as his hand violently shook. Weston continued to squeeze until his hand started to turn purple from loss of blood. With a grunt, he let go and leaned into the back cushion of the couch. He closed his eyes, sighing aloud.  
  
His thoughts wandered to Columbia, and the events in Hong Kong that led him to this 'Spira.' While he had grown accustomed to calling Spira his home, he didn't feel as if he fit in properly, knowing he'd never truly be able to forget where he had come from. Even with a troubled childhood and an adult life of killing and following orders, he missed his own world, his own existence. He didn't belong here and everyone knew it.  
  
Secretly, Weston had hoped for something...a cause...anything to get himself wrapped up in. If he could mediate this conflict, he could properly feel useful, for even the tiniest bit of time.  
  
A moment later, a knock came to the door.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Yuna peeked her head in the door. "Weston...I've assembled the Crusaders. The airship will be by tomorrow morning to take you. The 'Holy Team' is coming by foot, and they are projected to enter Kilika noon tomorrow. That'll give you plenty of time to prepare..."  
  
"Alright."  
  
Yuna nodded and slowly closed the door. Weston sighed and looked to his cot that resided in the left corner of the large room. He approached it and declothed. But before he laid down, he quickly went to his cabinet pulled out his rucksack, and extracted his gray khakis, shirt, and his black combat boots. He folded the shirt, khakis and set them atop the boots at the foot of his bed, making sure he would be ready at a moment's notice. Aside that, he laid his now loaded, cocked, and ready pistol, safety on, just in case. The pistol was in a shoulder holster strap that he could quickly slip over his shoulder when he needed to be ready.  
  
Growing aware of the after effects of the day, he slowly set himself into the cot and closed his eyes, clearing his mind completely. Shortly after, he slipped into a dreamless, and thoughtless slumber.  
  
--------------------  
  
Gatta sighed, looking at the rising sun. His Lieutenant, a tall, sandy haired lummox who went by the name of Ughol, walked up behind him.  
  
"You ok, boss?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm just nervous about this mission."  
  
Ughol laughed heartily. "It's not a mission, boss. Just a way of telling Nyka to back off."  
  
Gatta nodded and sighed, his gaze never leaving the sun. "Do you think we're going to have to fight these guys?"  
  
Ughol just patted the short man's shoulder, laughing. "If they start a fight, we'll take care of 'em. Question though..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"About this Westan-"  
  
"It's Weston"  
  
"Whatever...Weston fella. Think he's trustworthy?"  
  
"He saved Yuna's life."  
  
"Yeah, but that don't mean nothing when it comes down to the nitty- gritty. In battle, you need sane men. He ain't been lookin' too sane lately."  
  
"Wakka told me that's just his way of preparing. For what, I don't know. He didn't know about today's mission until yesterday afternoon."  
  
"That's a little weird, ya know."  
  
"I know. Trust me, though. He'll be fine."  
  
"Alright...you're the boss."  
  
"Try calling me 'Sir' every once and awhile."  
  
"Boss, there -is- no Crusader group anymore."  
  
Gatta sighed at this. "I know...but maybe, we can change that..."  
  
"Hopefully."  
  
"Well, I'll get Weston up. Form the troops and have them waiting for Weston and I to take them to wait for the Airship at the docks. And at least try to look like trained military men."  
  
"You got it, boss."  
  
--------------------  
  
At the first knock, Weston was out of the cot, shirt on, shoulder holster attached, and pants halfway pulled up. By the second knock, he was fully dressed, combat boots and all. He opened the door and looked downward.  
  
"You must be Gatta."  
  
The shorter man nodded, obviously not intimidated by Weston's size. "That I am. Are you ready?"  
  
Weston nodded and followed Gatta outside, shutting the door behind him.  
  
"Now, I have superiority over the operation, if this is even an operation...anyway, I have the authority. I tell you to stop, you stop, got me?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm used to following orders."  
  
"But that doesn't mean I'll always be there to give them. Think for yourself if you're in a bind."  
  
Weston smirked, already liking the blunt and upfront Gatta. "Of course."  
  
Gatta patted Weston's shoulder holster. "Machina?"  
  
"A gun, yes."  
  
"Whatever you want to call it."  
  
"Actually, it's Heckler and Koch's Special Operations Command USP fourty caliber semi-automatic pistol."  
  
Gatta blinked and looked to Weston. "-Whatever- you want to call it." "Eh..."  
  
"Anyway, Weston. About your Machina. I've got no problem with it. But my guys are using swords and daggers. Ten to one, so is the Holy Team. If something breaks out, watch your fire."  
  
"I ranked Top Marksmen in basic training. I missed one target out of fourty."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"Ok..."  
  
"Just don't hit any of my men, and I'll be fine with you using it."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"But, sooner or later, you will have to learn a sword."  
  
"Fencing champion, Lothburgh High."  
  
"Don't care."  
  
"Figured."  
  
"Use whatever you're better at."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"You're not here to buddy up with any of my men. You're here to advise, since you just might have something up your sleeve that I don't."  
  
Weston simply nodded.  
  
"Now, this is just a guarding mission. We get there, crowd the road into town from the forest, and confront them."  
  
Weston nodded once more. "Understood."  
  
"Good, now lets head to the docks."  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna looked to the group of men as if they were on their death march. She hadn't told the others about this, and no one in Besaid was even on the streets when the large group of uniformed men came trudging through the center of town, swords clanking and Gatta whispering his marching directions. Weston was slightly to the left of him, not bothering to stay in step.  
  
Yuna waved, and all the men of the platoon, the choice picks out of all the Crusaders, waved back, with Gatta smiling at her. Weston didn't even seem to notice she was there.  
  
Yuna watched as the men slowly made their way onto the docks, boots clunking against the wooden piers. The airship was a little late, but it was to be expected, since Rikku's brother wasn't one to wake up early.  
  
Much to her surprise, while the men waited, Wakka, dressed in a yellow shirt and khaki colored cargo shorts, and Lulu in a long, purple robe, emerged from Wakka's hut and squinted in the general direction of the men.  
  
Yuna blinked a few times, and ran to them, ready to explain and ask for them not to tell anyone. She quickly explained her decision.  
  
Wakka smiled, patting Yuna on her shoulder. "I'm proud of you. Makin' a big decision like dat. But I just hope they make it back safely."  
  
Lulu nodded. "Tell them to be very careful. I don't think Nyka's men would be very trustworthy."  
  
Yuna smiled slightly, her doubt starting to fade, if only for a little bit. She still felt as if she was sending men to their deaths.  
  
Yuna blinked and then sneered, poking Wakka's shoulder, nodding to Lulu. "What were you two doing in the same hut?"  
  
"Non' of your damn business," Wakka quickly said, but then looked to the ground, embarrassed.  
  
Lulu grinned, patting Wakka on his back, winking to Yuna. "We're to be married."  
  
Yuna let her mouth drop and looked up to Lulu, a large smile on her face. "Really?"  
  
Wakka smirked, face red with blush. "I asked her last night..."  
  
Yuna hugged them both, glad that -some- good news would come from this day. She only prayed a catastrophe didn't rain on their parade...  
  
"Wonderful, congratulations," Yuna said, her wide smile never leaving.  
  
"We're announcing it to the village tonight." Lulu said, trying to hide her grin. She couldn't hide the bright red blush, however.  
  
Yuna smiled once more and said. "It's settled, tonight, we'll throw a party in celebration."  
  
Wakka and Lulu both grew deeper shades of red, grinning ear to ear.  
  
Wakka blinked. "Ya dun have ta..."  
  
Yuna tapped his nose, turning quickly away after saying, "Of course I do."  
  
Wakka and Lulu both looked to each other, eyes locking. The airship quietly arrived as their lips met.  
  
--------------------  
  
The anxious Crusaders quickly boarded the airship, Gatta and Weston falling in behind. Gatta waved to Yuna one last time and the bay doors shut. The men huddled into a small group in the corner of the airship's bay door lobby. Gatta was in the center; Weston leaned against the wall, listening intently.  
  
"Ok boys, here's the plan. We arrive in Kilika. I'm sure the Mayor will wonder what's going on, and we'll have to get the word out around town what we're going to do. They'll be pretty antsy because it was Kilika's own young boys and girls, who were taking a trip through the surrounding mountains, that sent the message tellen Yuna about the approaching army. And it's not an army, Yuna and I confirmed that yesterday afternoon. It's a "Holy Team," the Yevonites' form of "persuasion". Now I know most of you would probably love to rid the world of these guys, but we can't press them too hard. Only attack if they attack first. We're not going to start a war, we're going to negotiate if we can."  
  
The men nodded.  
  
"Ughol here will be signal man. If he holds up ten fingers, we've got ten guys to worry over. If he holds up two, we've got two guys to deal with. Got it?"  
  
The men whispered a collective "Yessir."  
  
"If they charge, Ughol will pat his head and move his arm in a half- moon shape. When you see that, get ready to fight. Hopefully it won't come to that. Now, if they don't show up by five in the afternoon, we're searching for them. Weston's taking point, since he's the one with the Machina."  
  
Weston chimed in. "A Machina with only fifteen shots."  
  
"You said you're a marksman. You won't need fifteen shots," Gatta retorted.  
  
Weston smirked and quieted down.  
  
"Now, if all goes well, we'll be back home in Besaid before dinner. If not, we'll be back -by- dinner. And no foul ups. We're representing Yuna's honor. Act like it!"  
  
The men saluted and shouted their "Yessirs" this time. Afterwards, they dispersed and waited for the arrival.  
  
Gatta approached Weston, and leaned against the wall next to him.  
  
"Yeah?" asked Weston.  
  
"What do you think of the boys, Mr. Military?"  
  
"Dunno, haven't seen them in action. Discipline seems good. Drill skills as well."  
  
"Well, we don't tend to use Machina, so even if you did see them in action, how would you know if they were good or not."  
  
Weston laughed. "You've got one hell of a mouth, Gatta."  
  
"I try."  
  
"And you succeed."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Weston sighed and Gatta mockingly sighed afterwards.  
  
"Think we'll even see action?"  
  
"Dunno, Weston. Hope so."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Oh yeah. Haven't seen any real combat since Sin fell. I mean, all I had to do then was help the Crusaders clean shop, going around, killing any of the remaining fiends and Sinspawn."  
  
"So you've seen your fair share?"  
  
"Yeah. I've killed many a monster."  
  
"How about Humans?"  
  
"Nah, never killed one of those. Don't see much use to kill my own kind."  
  
"You might have to learn to soon enough."  
  
"Maybe so. If I do, I do. If I feel it's my duty, I'll do it."  
  
"Ruining a life in the name of a cause is 'duty'?"  
  
"Of course. S'what makes Spira keep turning."  
  
Weston laughed but before he could spout out a witty retort, the airship jerked to a stop and the bay doors opened. Bright sunlight filled the room and the men quickly jumped into a two columned marching platoon, five to a side. Weston and Gatta moved to the front and the men left the airship, walking onto the wooden planks that made up the Kilika docks. They marched right down the main pier and stopped, causing a bit of an alarm to the people carrying on their daily lives. The mayor, who was browsing a rug shop, looked up from a wonderfully patterned throw and nearly dropped it.  
  
The portly fellow walked right up to Gatta and screamed into his face, the man's breakfast still fresh on his breath.  
  
"What's the meaning of this?! First the threat of Nyka and now you! What's going on?"  
  
Gatta, as calm as possible, told the mayor why the group was there, and this quickly quieted the mayor down, who apologized for his outburst shortly after.  
  
"Well, I'll tell everyone to stay inside and not to worry, for we're in Yuna's protection now."  
  
Gatta nodded. "That's exactly what we want them to know."  
  
The mayor left and begin telling merchants and customers alike, who then dropped what they were doing and went about to tell the other inhabitants of the town.  
  
Gatta threw his arm forward and the group found it's way to the dirt and gravel path that was Kilika's only entry way from the forest. The men all squatted down and poked about, not trying to make too much noise, even though they needn't be stealthy. Weston was on one side of the walking way, back leaned against a fence post, Gatta on the other, leaning against a cement marker that was chiseled to welcome the weary traveler to Kilika. They exchanged glances, both semi-anxious to get this over with, however it turned out. They'd be waiting until about four.  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol, who was about to fall asleep, kept blinking his eyes open, trying to keep them from falling again. But on this particular blink, a few human silhouettes crowded his vision in the distance. He quickly grabbed his telescopic device and put it to his right eye. In the blurry tunnel vision, he quickly counted the white robed men and turned, motioning to the group behind him.  
  
Weston saw Ughol's hand flash five fingers, and he was somewhat relieved. But when those five fingers flashed again, and again, Weston jumped off of the fence post and jogged to where the large man was standing.  
  
"Fifteen?!" Weston quietly shouted.  
  
Ughol only nodded.  
  
Weston sighed, and looked to Gatta, who had quickly received the news. Weston walked back to Gatta and growled.  
  
"Fifteen men to eleven in Nyka's favor. Not good."  
  
"Obviously."  
  
Weston wasn't in the mood for Gatta's sarcasm and quickly drew his pistol, taking the safety off.  
  
Gatta laughed. "Easy with that thing. Put it back up until you need it. Hopefully, you won't."  
  
Weston sighed and did so, albeit reluctantly. The men were excited, but still anxious, waiting for Nyka's men to reach the town.  
  
Weston sighed once more, watching the slowly moving figures approach, inch by inch it seemed to him. He was nervous, anxious, and ready to kill if need be, a deadly combination when combined with extensive training and experience. He squinted, knowing the men had weapons, but he couldn't tell if they were staffs or bows. His questions were answered when he made out the blink and smoky remnants of a muzzle flash.  
  
--------------------  
  
One of the Crusaders hit the ground, shoulder shattered by a primitive but deadly bullet. He was screaming in pain, and Gatta kneeled next to him, flipping open his side-sack to pick out a potion. The potion healed the pain, but the wound would take longer. The man tried to move his arm, but it failed and he slumped, useless against a pier post. The next few shots came, and more screams of pain.  
  
Weston growled, yelling loudly. "They've got guns...Machina! Get down!"  
  
And the men did so. Nyka's men were too far out of range for Weston's pistol to do any damage. Weston growled, knowing now that the guns these men had were the same primitive rifles that the assassins had been using the day of the Tournament. The bullets continued to come, but the men were moving a bit closer in. Meanwhile, Gatta was jumping between three wounded men, trying to heal their wounds. One man had been shot directly through the bridge of his nose, where the heavy bullet was lodged into his brain. The man was alive, but not coherent. No potion could heal brain damage of this magnitude.  
  
Nyka's men stopped firing and made down the path in a dead run. The remaining Crusader men charged, following Ughol. Weston did as well, but instead of taking the open path, he slid along the wall of a nearby house, but moving fast enough to support the men if need be. And the need came rather quickly.  
  
One of the Holy Team men apparently saw him and fired, missing Weston's head by mere inches. Weston growled, pulled his pistol and fired a shot into the man's direction. It was a hit, but a bad one. Shoulder shot. Weston growled and fired again, hitting the man center chest, the force of the fourty caliber bullet sending the man flying a few feet back. Weston looked ahead and saw no opposition staring him in the face and he ran, full steam into the now clashed group of men. He fired and down went another Holy Team member. But, Weston's reward was a rifle butt to the face, and he went down hard.  
  
Weston shook his head and felt the kicks hitting his sides, but didn't bother noticing the pain. He was too furious now for pain. His hands found the nearest head and twisted, snapping the neck of one of Nyka's men. He heard the clunk of the cumbersome rifle as it hit the ground and he quickly picked it up. His back would hate him later, for as he bent down, one of the men hit him square across the spin with a rifle. Weston turned, despite the numbing pain, and fired, the heavy bullet taking the man's jaw with it. All around him, Weston heard scream, clanks, clunks, and the shink of metal into skin. He searched for his pistol, and found it, under a dead Holy Team member.  
  
Weston aimed at every white robe he could see, three in all and fired a round into each one. Of course, by now, the count was Holy Team, six, Crusaders, five. The rest of the team kept heading for the gates, and they met the cold steel of the Crusaders' blades. Weston started to limp forward slightly, the pain in his back now registering quite well.  
  
Ughol ran to Weston and forced a potion on him. Weston immediately perked up and ran toward the pier, ready to jump into the pile of flailing bodies. But, instead, he stopped and raised his pistol, popping a couple of the white robes at the base of the neck, where the spine begins. The lifeless bodies hit the ground, only to revel more chaos unfurling behind them. He saw three more white robes, bashing away. His pistol raised one more, and fired. Little did Weston know, his fifteen shots had come and gone, and the weapon only clicked three times. He blinked, noticing, finally, that the slide was cocked back, telling him he was pure out of luck. Angered in the heat of battle, he threw the weapon off to the side and decided to take care of the last three barehanded.  
  
Weston gripped the left man's shoulders, and flipped him around. Weston would be grateful that he had flipped the man, for the move blocked the shot from the last of Nyka's men. With a great heave, Ughol dispatched the final man's head from his shoulders with a blow from his mighty broadsword. The head rolled a bit in Weston's direction.  
  
Weston laughed, obviously adrenaline crazed. "Now -that's- something a potion can't fix."  
  
--------------------  
  
Gatta blinked, surveying the scene as two men of his squad rushed two critically wounded comrades to the airship.  
  
The final count would be fifteen dead Holy Team members against six alive and five dead Crusaders. Gatta sighed, shaking his head as he helped Weston pick up the last of the fallen Crusaders. On the trek back to the airship, Weston, who was now coming off of his rush, looked to Gatta.  
  
"You got your action."  
  
"At what price?"  
  
Weston hmmed. "Twenty human lives, possibly more if we don't hurry back to Besaid."  
  
"Duty doesn't seem too appealing anymore."  
  
"Truer words have yet to be spoken."  
  
--------------------  
  
Wakka and Lulu were sitting, and eating, at the head of a large wooden table, while the other villagers ate at the sides, Yuna at the other end of the large table. Everyone was enjoying themselves, frequent toasts, more and more meat, veggies and pastry being served by the half-hour. Lulu smirked and grabbed a piece of cake, stuffing it into Wakka's mouth. The red-headed behemoth smirked and mmphed, chewing with his mouth half-open. Lulu laughed.  
  
Yuna smiled warmly, watching them. Even though it pained to not have her own mate, she was purely happy for Wakka and Lulu. To her, it had been a long time coming, and long overdue.  
  
Some of the villagers were dancing around the fire outside of the dining tent, either drunk or high on life.  
  
Yuna was, for the first time in ages, honestly happy. And she vowed nothing would take it away from Wakka and Lulu, the villagers, or even herself.  
  
It was then, as she made this vow, that the body of one of the Crusaders slammed against the table. Ughol didn't say a word, just pointed to Yuna, and then to the shaking young soldier. Yuna nodded, still dazed at what had just occurred, but realizing what she must do. With a flash, the man's wound was healed, but his pain lasted, and the feeling of having a bullet lodged into his brain made him convulse. Two of the villagers grabbed him and took him to the side, obviously meaning to bring the man to his senses.  
  
Yuna ran to the fire outside, seeing Gatta, who was very dirty and bloody, and Weston, who was just as dirty, but only had a bruise on his forehead run by in what seemed like slow motion. She turned to see the two men place another Crusader onto the table. She ran to him and looked at his wound. The young man had a bullet lodged in his windpipe. He was only seconds from asphyxiation. Yuna placed her hand over the wound, closed her eyes, and the bullet disappeared into a white flash of light. The same two villagers from before took the soldier off to the side, setting him next to the other one.  
  
Yuna looked to Weston, who only stared at her blankly, as if he didn't believe what was occurring either. Gatta rushed back in, carrying a soldier with a very bloody shoulder. The bone was shattered, but Yuna knew the young man could wait just a moment more.  
  
She looked to Gatta and asked, "Any more?"  
  
"The dead are in the airship. They're too long gone to revive."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Too many."  
  
Yuna's heart sank. She looked to Wakka and Lulu, who stared at the bloody pool seeping into the cake they had just been eating. She then looked to Weston, whose look told her he was shattered on the inside, like a fragile glass rose. Gatta and Ughol had the exact same expression, and they all shared the same look in their eye, as if they're not looking directly ahead, but way off into the distance. She sighed and looked back to the soldier with the shattered shoulder. He was crying out in pain, making her jog over to him. She quickly mended his wound with her magic. But of course, there was nothing magic or potions could do for mental wounds...  
  
--------------------  
  
"Friends, fellow Yevoners, all who hear me now hear a broken men. Fifteen of our own were brutally murdered by a band of Crusaders just outside of Kilika yesterday. The Crusaders ambushed them with forbidden Machina, while how lowly Holy Team only had the book of Yevon as their weapons. Alas, books cannot contend with bullets, and we are fifteen lives shorter than we were only two days ago. According to sources, the group was sent there on direct orders from Yuna. Now, my believers, if this isn't a call to action, I do not know what is. From this point forward, the book of New Yevon, its council, its people, and Yevon himself are now deeply set into a war against the rebellious and barbaric heathens, led by the evil temptress who goes by the name of Yuna. Hear me, now. We will need every bit of money, every bit of labor, and every single able-bodied husband and son to join our illustrious army of Good Will. But, alas, we will have to fight fire with fire, believers. We cannot fight bullets without using bullets ourselves. But this is Yevon's will, as he has told me himself. We will defeat this uprising of heathens, and cast them back to the shadowy pits they've come from. Praise be to Yevon, and all his followers!"  
  
The crowd cheered, hooted, and hollered. Nyka sank back into his office with a grin, satisfied with himself.  
  
--------------------  
  
"...Praise be to Yevon, and all his followers!"  
  
The image clicked off and the sphere whirred to a stop. This was Yuna's third time watching that dreadful speech. She knew the choice that she'd avoided for months now was at hand, and she only knew one alternative: death.  
  
Yuna walked out onto the temple's front steps, the sphere in her hand. Wakka, Lulu, Weston, Gatta and his Crusaders, all of Besaid and most of Kilika all watching her every movement.  
  
She cleared her throat, and spoke in soft, clear, measured tones. "We are to...wage war."  
  
--------------------  
  
Phew, plenty of action in this chapter. And oooooooooooooo two long chapters in one weekend. I'm goooooooood ^^ Also, as I meant to open this AN out... "Thus, ends, Part One of Akin to Sin. The second major plot development is in place. Expect really long, drawn out chapters full of Saving Private Ryan style war imagery, much like a few scenes in this chapter. Of course, being a PG-13 fic, I'll have to tone it down just a tad. Heads will roll, they say ^^" Ok, now that's out of the way...Expect the next few chapters in the next month or so. School's going to be a bitch before Christmas, and I'll be doubling the cram time in for finals. Oh, and if you have any questions/comments/blurbs/what ifs/anything else not mentioned, feel free to email me (tlozwarlock@yahoo.com) or IM me. Tlozwarlock on AIM and Yahoo. No, I don't use MSN. So sue me. What? I'm not begging...I'm just lonely ;.; ^^;;;  
  
PS. Wouldn't that whole wedding party thing in real life just suck? You're just eating and having a good ole time, just to have some bloodied body dumped onto your pre-nuptial feast. *shudders* 


	10. Chapter 10: The Battle for Kilika

From Weston's Log, p 3  
  
--------------------  
  
The 'War of Civil Unrest' is official, on both sides, that is. Yuna sent a cute little ultimatum to Nyka about a day after his own announcement of war. It was her last ditch effort to thwart this, but, as if it took much time to figure out, Nyka's not budging. Neither is Yuna.  
  
I have to commend her strong refusal. It's certainly more drive than she showed in the past. I have a feeling she's starting to understand just what Nyka's up to.  
  
The wait, I have to say, is the worst. Nyka's reply to Yuna's ultimatum was sending two thousand merry little troops on their way towards Kilika. Yuna, in return, hastily sent a thousand or so Crusaders into Kilika, with the promise of more, fortifying the city. I, of course, volunteered. My home is the battlefield. Besides, Besaid isn't much of an exciting place, despite the nice people.  
  
Speaking of Besaid, that's where the Crusader's have migrated. That's roughly around fourty thousand guys populating the small island. Well, make that thirty nine thousand now.  
  
Yuna's holed up in the temple, making it her headquarters. She supposed to take an -escorted- trip to Luca soon to see if she can grab some support. Luca's pretty big, so I don't expect -all- of the people there to support us, but I feel we'll be able to get some troops and money from them.  
  
It's really sad. It's almost as if Yuna's having to start her own nation. An army, money (they call it Gil, I call it money. It buys crap and jingles, so it's money to me, no matter what they call it), and politics to deal with.  
  
After that incident in Kilika, nothing's been the same in Spira, and it'll never be the same again. The people of Spira are used to fighting monsters, not themselves. This war isn't going to be pretty. It's going to fuck with just about every person sane enough to comprehend it.  
  
Sitting here at my post allows me quite some time to think. And being a thinking soldier in a war is not the best position to be in. You have to be a "doing" soldier. Otherwise, you're dead. You can't think of what you're doing. You can't reflect on how many people were affected by the kill you just made. Children, wives, relatives, all affected by one simple life. And you. You as the soldier, not the man, take that life away from those people, because it's all a game. A game of kill or be killed.  
  
A soldier is a pawn, you see. The people who run the war are the people who have time to think. They don't have bullets whizzing by their heads. They don't have to instinctively duck and cover every five seconds just to stay alive.  
  
Once a pawn, always a pawn, I say. And I'd rather be a pawn than some citizen, sitting in his hut or home, worrying over if his town is going to be taken over by the "bad" guy or the "good" guy, depending upon whichever side he believes is good or bad. That's just not a life for me right now.  
  
My spirit has renewed, now that I have a cause to truly fight for. I know it may seem that I ask for trouble...but this is all I have. The fellowship that forms between men with weapons fighting together for a cause cannot match the friendship between two people. You have to trust your fellow soldier, with your life, at every moment. You don't have time to get to know him. You just -know- him through his actions. A battlefield friendship isn't as fickle as a social friendship. It may only last as long as whoever dies first, but you never fight, you never doubt. You have an undying confidence in your comrades, as they do you.  
  
War may be hell, but it's unavoidable. Why fight something you cannot avoid?  
  
--------------------  
  
Chapter 10: The Battle for Kilika  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston sighed, sword in hand. He looked about at all the people in the pub, drinking and chattering. A cup of some sort of green ale was in front of him. The owner claimed it would help him stay awake and keep him on it toes. All it did for Weston was make him lightheaded. The stuff tasted similar to raw kerosene, which one of his foster parents had used for a cure-all. He'd only taken one sip and left the rest on the table, pushed rather far away from his current seat.  
  
As Weston looked around, watching for anything suspicious, Gatta trudged through the doorway, a rather bored look on his face. He sat down across from Weston and picked the ale up, drinking it in one gulp.  
  
Weston winced after seeing Gatta down the horrible liquid so quickly. "How can you stand that stuff?"  
  
Gatta laughed. "Kilika ale is famous. Not for its taste, but for its effect. Feeds your thirst and burns a hole in your throat. But damn, will it keep you awake a few more hours. It's a favorite among seasoned Crusaders."  
  
"Bah. Shit tastes like raw fuel. I don't care what it may do, I'll stick to my rationed coffee."  
  
This time, it was Gatta's turn to cringe. "Coffee? Ugh, that ancient drink is the nastiest stuff. They only serve it in Luca because that's the only place it'll sell. Blitzballers love the stuff. Makes them so hyper..."  
  
Weston smirked, leaning forward as he placed his sword against one of the table legs. "Coffee tastes a hell of a lot better than that ale crap. Works faster too."  
  
Gatta grinned, picking up the empty ale container, shoving it in Weston's face. "Well, if you want to be a Crusader, you have to drink Kilika ale."  
  
"I'm already affiliated."  
  
"I don't see your precious Delta force anywhere near us, Weston. Besides, those guys are used to using Machina. They're wimps. Join the manly men, the Crusaders."  
  
Weston laughed, leaning back into the wooden chair. "You only want me to join so you can order my ass around."  
  
Gatta shrugged with a knowing grin. Weston shook his head and stood, taking his sword and sheathing it. "Thanks for relieving me. I'm taking a walk."  
  
Gatta nodded in reply, waving Weston off with the flick of a hand.  
  
Weston mocked a salute and curtly turned on a heel, laughing as he made his way through the doorway.  
  
--------------------  
  
A dark figure stood on a lone hill, rain soaking the thick, long hooded cloak that covered most of the figure's features. The rain was coming in heavy sheets, making a soft mist rise from the hot ground. The sun was long gone behind the dark clouds, and what felt like midday looked like twilight. The figure tilted its hooded head and then all faded to black, leaving only a single white ball where the figure's head had been.  
  
Yuna shot up in bed, sweat in a thick sheen across her forehead. It was the third night she had had this dream. It was the same every night, save the white ball, a new addition.  
  
The dreams had started after the first rehearsal for Wakka and Lulu's wedding. She'd been so exhausted after helping the village prepare the square, turning it into a nice area for the ceremony, she just plopped onto her bed in the temple and fell into a deep sleep. That's when the first dream occurred.  
  
While they didn't worry her per say, they were becoming quite interesting to her. They helped her mind focus on something besides the looming doom of war. She'd spent most of the day before the second dream trying to remember certain details of the dream, desperately trying to solve its mystery. Alas, she didn't have much to go on, so she wouldn't be able to solve this for quite some time.  
  
She sighed and moved to the side of the bed, quickly dressing in her normal kimono. When stepping out, she could tell it was later in the morning by the position of the sun. Wakka, Lulu, the local priest (despite his secession from the Yevon practice, he still married couples in the name of a great creator), and a few villagers were busy with the alter, figuring out positions and going over movements. She smiled and walked over.  
  
Wakka looked up from some papers and smiled. "Last rehearsal, ya?"  
  
Yuna smiled, nodding. "Tomorrow's the day."  
  
Wakka looked to Lulu, his eyes adoringly watching her as she positioned some chairs. "That it is..."  
  
Yuna sighed somewhat as she watched Wakka look to Lulu, seeing the pure love in his eyes. It made her think of Tidus' eyes that night, in the Macalania Woods. She clasped her hands and closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston walked along the pier, boots clunking against the thick wood. His eyes were squinting and his face was winced because of it. The sun was bright and the day was really just beginning, even though it was only an hour until noon. The day was also warm, but it wasn't as intolerable because of the cool breeze coming from the ocean. Weston stopped and breathed in the salty air, listening to the sounds of the bustling island. He had to admit, not even an encroaching army could sway Kilika's determination to go about its business.  
  
He had worries, of course. That anxiousness had been humbled a bit by the incident that sparked the war, and taking life had instilled in him that same spirit he had learn to feel before. Weston wasn't exactly thrilled about having to face two thousand of the Yevonites at once, especially since he'd be wielding a sword instead of a gun. Gatta assured Weston that the Holy Team incident was a fluke, and they probably had Machina that they'd stolen from other sources. Still, Weston feared, as did Gatta, even if he didn't admit it, that this was going to be another ambush. But the Crusaders didn't have any Machina, and Yuna had yet to even funnel money into the fledgling army. And the extra troops, that -were- promised, had yet to arrive.  
  
Weston sighed as he neared the exit of town, towards the Kilika Jungle. The blood on the gravel hadn't been cleaned, and there were still a couple of the rifles on the ground in the grass ahead. Weston hmmed and went over to one, picking it up.  
  
The gun was covered in wood, from stock to barrel. There was no advanced aiming device, so Weston guessed the men had been trained to just point and shoot based off of a small rectangular reticule on the end of the metal barrel. The loading mechanism was a little foreign, as was to be expected. The end of the stock detached from the rest of the gun and slid out like a tray. A rectangular insert held a rectangular magazine, where ten shots could be crammed into the small opening at the far side of the magazine. Weston pulled a cartridge from the magazine, seeing that the bullets were flat on the top, rounded on the bottom. It resembled a three- fifty seven wad-cutter's lead. Packed onto the back of the round was a small metallic cylinder with a dried powdery substance. Weston guessed this was the primer and power to ignite and set the bullet into motion. The barrel wasn't grooved, so accuracy was limited, but he knew that Nyka's men could use them just the same.  
  
The rifle itself looked rather easy to build and maintain, making Weston's worries grow even more. More than likely, they'd be facing a superior enemy. Weston didn't like to be outgunned. He wasn't used to being the underdog, being a Special Forces soldier.  
  
With a sigh, he set the gun down, not wanting to use the weapon, even if it did give him an advantage. He also didn't want to upset Gatta and look weak in front of the other soldiers. He growled at himself, letting petty Alpha- Male instincts rule him at a time when survival meant 'who killed who first'.  
  
Slowly, he trudged, nodding to Ughol and a couple of other soldiers as he made his way up the gravel path leading to the jungle. Weston stopped a moment, in the middle of the path, looking into the distant tree line. He could just imagine the white robed pricks immerging, firing their primitive rifles at the town, trying to take it over by sheer overpowering an outgunned opponent. Weston sighed, his eyes closing, trying not to think of the consequences. But, being of analytical mind, the thoughts burst his mental block easily.  
  
If Kilika were taken, then this war would be over as soon as Nyka could get up enough troops to overpower the Crusaders protecting Yuna. Knowing how easily Nyka had manipulated the people that blindly followed him didn't help ease Weston's thoughts either. If the Crusaders -did- defend Kilika, it would come at a heavy price, Weston was sure of it.  
  
His eyes slowly opened and he continued up the path slowly, his boots crunching into the gravel. His head turned and he saw the vast green fields behind the town. He could see children playing, their parents not too far away, watching them. Something in Weston cried out in pain, and he had to turn away. His face burned red with anger, not at the sight, but at himself.  
  
Years ago, before choosing to become a soldier, he had made a promise to his last foster parent. He had promised to go into the real world and be strong and intelligent. He was going to get a job, start a family, and be a good father, as if that'd somehow make up for the childhood he had led. But, he'd taken the easy way out of life. For a little bit of physical labor, and mental conditioning, he was housed, clothed, and had a family to take care of him. He was paid, and didn't have to worry about job security, because someone always needed protection or someone to do their dirty work for them.  
  
Weston shrugged off the feelings and kept on his journey, trying to clear his mind, feeling a slight ache in his bones, his normal signal that danger was near. But, he ignored it, chalking it up to his previous thoughts.  
  
He stopped walking a couple of hundred feet away from the beginning of the jungle, where the vast green fields turn to dense, vine-littered forest. Why they called it a jungle he'd never figure out. With a sigh, he turned and headed back for the village, not bothering to notice the children at play again, fearing it might cloud his mind.  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol sighed, tired of having to guard the back of the town. He turned to his subordinate and growled.  
  
"Why can't we just meet them halfway here?"  
  
The young soldier just shrugged.  
  
Ughol sighed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm going for a drink. Wanna join me?"  
  
The impressionable young soldier immediately beamed, proudly replying, "Yes, sir!"  
  
Ughol laughed and turned. "Alright, let's go. It's not like a few minutes away from our post will hurt."  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol and his sergeant plopped down at the table Weston and Gatta were using.  
  
Gatta looked a bit surprised as Ughol waved two fingers at the barmaid. "Taking a break?"  
  
"Just for a few minutes."  
  
Weston cocked an eyebrow. "And who's watching the rear?"  
  
Ughol shrugged. "A few minutes won't hurt."  
  
Weston was about to say something about duty, but stopped himself, remembering that this wasn't his Army, and things were probably done differently.  
  
Gatta shrugged and sipped at his bottle of ale, Weston hunched back in his chair, obviously bored.  
  
A few moments of silence later, Ughol and his subordinate were downing Kilika ale. Ughol had no problem with it, but the sergeant winced a bit, trying to old back his tears. Weston smirked, knowing just how the fellow felt. After the drinks were gone, Ughol leaned his wide frame back, making the relatively small wooden chair creak in agony. He patted his stomach, and after relieving a belch, spoke.  
  
"Buncha kids playing in the back fields. Cute little buggers. Wish I had me some."  
  
Gatta laughed. "Ughol...the thought of you with kids is frightening."  
  
The behemoth apparently didn't like the tease and rolled his eyes, looking to the left and calling for another ale.  
  
Gatta half-smiled, not meaning to offend his lieutenant. He looked to Weston. "Have a nice walk?"  
  
Weston shrugged. "Yeah. Better than sitting here."  
  
"Why don't you take another one?"  
  
"Tired of walks."  
  
Ughol pointed a meaty finger to Weston.  
  
"Yeah, I saw you smelling the air and all that. You some kinda outdoorsy guy?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
The large man hmmed, and thankfully received a new bottle of ale. The subordinate looked nervous around the men, obviously not used to being in the presence of so many older men. Weston shot a glance to the sergeant. Kid would fit this guy a bit better, Weston thought. He looks like he's just a teenager. Probably my age now that I was when I entered the military.  
  
When the young man returned the glance, Weston averted his eyes to a painting on the wall. It was a beautiful scene of snow-capped mountains.  
  
Gatta seemed to notice Weston's eyes admiring the painting. "That's Mount Gagazet and its neighboring peaks. That's where the Ronso tribe lives. Well, what's left of it, that is. One of the Guardians that defeated Sin once and for all, Kihmari, is currently helping to rebuild the tribe. From what I heard, some children were born a year ago, and Kihmari is playing a big part in raising them. Wonder if he knows what's going on..."  
  
Ughol smirked and set the empty bottle onto the table. "Hell, that Ronso couldn't hear anything but the howling wind up there. How's he supposed to know what's going on down here?"  
  
Gatta shrugged and another silence came between the men.  
  
After a few minutes, Weston broke the silence. "Think Yuna could supply us anytime soon? I mean...a thousand troops...is a little low for even a smaller town like this."  
  
Gatta hmmed. "I don't think she has much choice, really. It's tuff to assemble men. The trouble we went through just getting that ten formed a few weeks ago..."  
  
Weston, as well as Gatta, left that subject rather quickly, not wanting to remember that episode. When death is so concentrated in a small amount of time, the aftereffects are worse than those of a long, drawn out battle.  
  
Another silence befell, and this stayed for quite some time.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Back field in sight, sir."  
  
"Good. Remember men, this jungle is our protection. We have to lure them out into that open field. With them out in the open, taking them down should be easy and Kilika will be ours."  
  
"But how, sir?"  
  
"Aim your rifle, soldier. The closest one to the right, with the blitzball."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
--------------------  
  
The crack broke the silence. Ughol jumped, Weston's ear pricked, and Gatta only sat there, as he had before. The subordinate instinctively dove under the table.  
  
Gatta laughed. "Another one of the jungle trees coming down by the hands of Kilika's loggers."  
  
Weston looked about, seeing absolutely no one alarmed. Even though his senses were telling him something was amiss, the utter unresponsiveness shown by everyone save the sergeant killed his instinct to grab his weapon.  
  
It was the second crack that made the men, as well as the other pub goers a little more nervous.  
  
Weston raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "How many loggers are there?"  
  
"Ten to twenty. Maybe they're doing squad work."  
  
And the men left it at that, but only for a mere moment, for pop after pop started to sound. It was then, that Gatta jumped to his feet, hand finding the handle of his sword. Weston, Ughol, and the sergeant all stood soon after, exchanging knowing looks.  
  
Gatta nodded. "Hopefully, this is just a brigade of pop-gun kiddies. Ughol, Barnes. Go and round up some squads, just in case. Weston, you coming with me?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Let's go."  
  
And with that, the men went their respective ways.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston and Gatta ran towards the forest path, full speed. Weston squinted his eyes and saw a figure running towards them. He drew his sword and pointed the figure out to Gatta. The two men slowed, swords ready to do damage. As the figure got closer, distance stopped playing its tricks and a crying young girl ran right into Weston's right leg, wrapping her arms around it in a tight grip.  
  
Gatta kneeled down, asking her what's wrong.  
  
"Mommy...daddy...they won't wake up!"  
  
Weston shot Gatta a glance that said both "Get this kid off my leg" and "Prepare for the worst."  
  
Gatta nodded, pulled the girl from Weston's leg, and shoved a finger towards the tree line, telling Weston to go ahead as he took care of the young girl. Weston did as he was told.  
  
--------------------  
  
As Ughol and Barnes made their way to each inn, collecting the soldiers, who were already ready for battle after hearing the cracks in the distance. Ughol didn't count the soldiers behind him, but he made in a straight run to each and every post, gathering more. In less than five minutes, a mass of soldiers found its way to the path leading to the jungle. Ughol stopped them as he saw Gatta, kneeled, trying to calm a crying young girl. Ughol tapped his leader on the shoulder.  
  
"Boss, we don't have the time for this. I'll have a man take the kid to the pub."  
  
Gatta nodded and Ughol grabbed the man closest to him, using hand signals to show the soldier exactly what he wanted done. The soldier quickly abided.  
  
After finding his feet, Gatta ordered the men to follow him, and he inched his way into the field. Surprised, he stopped, making the rest of the men stop as well. In front of him was the frozen form of Weston, sword, shaking due to his clenched tight hand, at his side, face red as fire.  
  
But Gatta didn't have to ask Weston what was going on. He could see it for himself. The children and parents alike were littering the ground with their blood, bodies broken by Machina shots. Gatta himself felt the anger flush, and wanted to run full steam ahead for the tree line. But, seeing Weston frozen there, looking at the massacre that had just occurred, made him keep himself in check. If Weston could control himself, so could he.  
  
Weston seemed to know of Gatta's presence, as well as the men's. Through clenched teeth and a shaky voice, he managed. "Don't move any further. It's an ambush. We run there," and he pointed with his left hand to the tree line for emphasis, "we die."  
  
Gatta nodded, coming beside Weston but keeping his eyes from the disgusting scene of tragic death. He whispered between shaky breaths, "Think we can flank them?"  
  
"Too late for that. They know we're here."  
  
"We wait it out then?"  
  
"We fucking wait it out."  
  
Gatta growled, eyes catching the horrific scene once more, turning to his men, and telling them to stand down. He felt the tinge of control leaving him, mainly since Weston had clearly made the orders this time around. Gatta squatted and sat, legs overlapping each other, back pressed against the wall of a hut near the beginning of the path.  
  
Inside Weston, something wanted to go and rip every single white- robed Yevonite to shreds. They had done the unthinkable. They had killed the innocent in cold blood, and Weston's cause was fortified with one single act of horror. Shakily, he squatted himself, eyes watching the tree line as a hawk would watch its prey. He needed the soldier, not the man. His mind slowly numbed, all thoughts leaving his head save the one goal in mind: kill the Yevonites, every last one of them.  
  
Ughol, who had only taken a quick glance at the carnage, was relenting his lunch and his ale into the ocean, not caring what the men thought of it.  
  
After his bowels had been emptied, he wiped at his mouth and shouted in a faltering breath. "I need two men to take the airship back to Besaid. Tell our Lady what's happened, and get more troops. Fail my orders, and I kill you."  
  
Two men quickly stepped forward, saluted, and ran off towards the docks, where the airship was waiting, its Crusader pilot already aware of the event that had just unfurled.  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna smiled warmly, watching as the priest gave the ending speech of love and its importance in society. He then said the classic line, causing Wakka and Lulu's lips to lock. But, since this was only the last rehearsal, the kiss lasted a lot longer than it would at the ceremony.  
  
Yuna was happy to see her two guardians finally vowing to love each other for the rest of their lives. Still, every lover's gaze and kiss and embrace made her think of Tidus, even though she had vowed not to let it bother her. Time moves on, no matter how much damage one takes, she kept telling herself.  
  
As Wakka and Lulu made their way down the aisle, rehearsing the last bit of the ceremony, Wakka smirked and quickly picked Lulu up, starting to run towards the hut they were now sharing. They were stopped, rather suddenly, by two Crusaders with very solemn looks adorning their faces. They dodged the couple and quickly ran towards Yuna's now concerned form.  
  
Yuna's eyes lost their sparkle as they met with one of the soldier's own, his dark brown eyes showing a despair that could only come with the unthinkable. She heaved a sigh and gave them a weak smile, already knowing they were going to give her terrible news.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Lady Yuna..." one of the men heaved, out of breath.  
  
"Yes?" Yuna repeated.  
  
"Kilika...children...men...women...massacred..."  
  
Yuna's mouth opened in shock, tears already forming at the corners of her eyes as her small hands came to cover her gaping maw.  
  
"We need...troops...supplies...battle ensuing..."  
  
Yuna only nodded, nearly squeaking her words, her mind racing in the horror gripping her. "Get anything...anything..."  
  
They nodded and ran off towards the docks, probably to ready the airship for more troops.  
  
Yuna collapsed right on the stage. Wakka and Lulu both ran up to her, kneeling down beside her. The young girl was crying, rather hysterically, her worst fears imagined. Wakka picked the sobbing mass Yuna had become and started carrying her towards the temple. Lulu walked along side, wondering what had caused the pillar Yuna seemed to be to become so distraught.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston, while still in his crouched position, shuffled over to Gatta.  
  
Gatta looked up, a defeated look in his eyes. "How's it looking?" he asked half-heartedly.  
  
"Like a massacre. The perpetrators are two hundred strong and using the jungle as cover, while we're just sitting here."  
  
Gatta smirked, his eyes devoid of emotion, the brown pools not seeming to focus on anything particular. "I see someone doesn't like being the loser."  
  
Weston growled, his anger flaring for a moment. Quickly, he calmed himself and sat next to Gatta with a heavy sigh. He looked ahead, at the troops. Most of them were just milling about, while some were still trying to get over the shock of the scene before them.  
  
Ughol leaned against the wall next to Weston, a heavy thud sounding from the wooden barrier.  
  
"I feel helpless, just sitting here."  
  
Gatta didn't bother looking to him, but monotonically answered, "We all do."  
  
Ughol growled under his breath and sent a bulky fist into the wall, causing it to shake.  
  
Weston hmmed. "Those extra troops won't help us much, you know."  
  
Gatta nodded. "Yeah, I know. When you're outmatched with weaponry, you don't have much of a chance period."  
  
Weston nodded. "Crusaders have -any- Machina weaponry?"  
  
Gatta shook his head. "No. Well, nothing hand held, that is."  
  
Weston's brow quirked. "Nothing hand held?"  
  
"We just have the airship. It's got rockets..."  
  
Weston stood rather quickly, eyes going wide. "And why didn't I know this before?"  
  
"They're for air-to-air defense, Weston."  
  
Weston smirked. "Not today, they're not."  
  
--------------------  
  
It was another thirty minutes before the airship arrived. Only about two hundred or so men came with the airship. Those men were greeted by Gatta and Weston, who then informed them of the situation and ordered them to posts near the path. Weston ducked into the airship and made his way to the cockpit, Gatta trailing behind.  
  
The pilot of the ship looked up from the console and smiled. Weston didn't return the gesture. "Rockets. Ready them. We're going to hit their holed up position."  
  
The pilot didn't respond and looked to Gatta. "Sir?"  
  
Gatta only nodded.  
  
Weston continued. "But, before, we're going to pull off a 'feigned retreat', a maneuver that involves this ship landing in the middle of the field, having around thirty or so men board, and then leaving. If they think we're leaving, it might just lure them out before we hit them head on with the rockets. If they don't buy the bait, the rockets will decimate them. If they do buy the bait, -we'll- decimate them. The best-case scenario would be to not use the rockets, of course. Gatta and I are going to be on the ground if and when you have to use the rockets. Use your discretion."  
  
The pilot nodded, looking to Gatta as if he needed confirmation. Gatta nodded in reply. The pilot sighed and set the airship into motion, quickly maneuvering it to the field. The moment it came into view, the Yevonites opened fire. Bullets clanged and whizzed as the bay doors open, the airship landing onto the grassy earth. Weston ran to the bay doors and signaled to the men that were visible at the mouth of the path to make a run for it.  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol blinked as he heard the Yevonites open fire. He turned around after ducking and saw the airship, as well as Weston's signaling form, hit the ground. He squinted, seeing Weston's hand point, and then flash five fingers six times. After that, Weston motioned to the back of the room with a thumb. Ughol nodded, threw up a hand, and patted thirty men on their backs, sending them off to the airship. Ughol watched as the men ran into the hostile field, watching a few of them get hit and go down, screaming in pain. As the airship retreated, he wondered just what the hell was going on.  
  
--------------------  
  
Once Weston had counted twenty-two heads pass him, he jumped out and ran, half-crouched, towards the path. Gatta followed, both of the men now at breakneck speed. Bullets were flying everywhere, and Weston felt one tear some cloth and flesh from his leg. It was only a scratch and it didn't affect his run one bit. Another bullet whizzed by his ear, causing his left eye to close, as if that would stop it from entering his head.  
  
When Weston and Gatta finally made it to the safety of the path's mouth, they weren't tired, but their chests weren't exactly moving at normal speed. Weston let out a sound that resembled a sarcastic laugh, but it was more or less a cry of pain, as the blood pumped into the open gash. Ughol knelt down and handed Weston a potion.  
  
"No." Weston said through clenched teeth as his arm stopped Ughol's. Instead, Weston tore a piece of his sleeve from his shirt and wrapped it around his shin, covering his wound.  
  
"Maybe after this is over," he said with a smirk to Ughol. "But right now, this pain is a good thing. Keeps me angry."  
  
The behemoth, for the first time in hours, laughed a hearty laugh. Gatta turned his lips up into a sneer as the men turned their heads towards the tree line, wondering if the bluff had worked or not.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Sir...it looks as if they've evacuated."  
  
"It could be a bluff."  
  
"They've got little to no troops at the mouth, sir. I can see them now. Only the leaders and a few men."  
  
"Well, get me a confirmation and we'll attack them head on. Besides, all they have is swords."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston sighed, watching the still tree line. "Hope that pilot decides quickly..."  
  
Gatta nodded. "It's not like he's going to desert us." And at that moment, they heard, and saw, the trees and bushes moving, white robes coming into view."  
  
--------------------  
  
"Alright, that's it, no more waiting!" the pilot yelled to his navigator. The pilot pulled the airship from behind a set of palm trees and emerged. He saw the large group of white robes running to the town. "Aim at the head and center of those Yevonites!"  
  
The navigator did as he was ordered.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston, Gatta, and Ughol just stared at the oncoming troops, not bothering to ready themselves for battle. This threw the Yevonites off long enough for them to miss the airship right over the Crusader's defensive position. They never saw the rockets, only the knowing smirks of the Crusaders before them.  
  
--------------------  
  
The ground shook violently as the rockets hit the ground, spraying grass, dirt, and rocks into the air. Weston, Ughol, Gatta, and the rest of the men hit the ground, bodies being covered in dirt, grass, and remnants of human beings. The line of rockets spread all the way into the jungle, trees, foliage, and Nyka's army being blown to shreds.  
  
Weston sat up into his defensive crouching position, black and brown soil covering his face and clothes. His eyes looked extremely white against the grime on his face. He wiped some dirt from his mouth and tried to focus on the scene, but too much dust and smoke filled the air, creating a thick, artificial fog. The only sounds he could register were disembodied screams and the coughs of the men behind him. A sickening smell clung to the dust, a stench comprised of burnt flesh, hair, and earth.  
  
As Weston coughed a few times, the thick fog slowly began to dissipate. He blinked some dust from his eyes, causing tears to roll down his filthy cheeks. After a few wipes at his eyes, he could see a few craters on the ground. He didn't really notice the pieces of the Yevonites lying around, or even the shattered souls alive enough to notice that a good chunk of their bodies were missing.  
  
Weston's focused turned to the now shaken and battered tree line ahead, where he thought he saw a few more white robes running. He didn't even hear the shots as the remainder of Nyka's force ran through the smoke and ducked into the newly created cover in the form of impact craters.  
  
Gatta sat up, using Ughol's still lying body as support. He inched forward, still crouching as he did so, better safe than sorry. A few moments later, and he found himself next to Weston.  
  
Weston silently breathed, "I think they're in the craters..."  
  
Gatta nodded. "Then we can flank them. I'll call the order."  
  
With a nod, Weston slowly drew his sword, shuffling back towards the men.  
  
Gatta was whispering the orders. "Two groups of twenty will approach from the far left. Those groups will be led by Ughol. Stay as close to the coast as possible. Move silently. Same goes for the other group. With this smoke, we can have some concealment. Two groups of twenty will approach by the right side. Stick close to the house and then make it to the craters in a wide berth. Remember to crouch as you go. I'll be leading the right group. Now, Weston. You'll be leading the rest of the men in a drive towards the center. When you hear shots, or swords, or both, make in a dead run for the center of the craters. They'll be too busy with the flaking squads to notice."  
  
The men nodded, fearing a loud acknowledgment would spark the Yevonites to start firing. Ughol counted out forty soldiers and moved towards the left, the men drawing their swords. Gatta counted out forty men as well and took them off to the right. Gatta gave a signal, and the two groups headed off in their respective directions.  
  
Weston's adrenaline level was raised, and waiting wasn't his forte, but his body was frozen in position, his ears listening for the chaos that was about to ensue.  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol could see the white robed men sitting in the craters, rifles pointed straight ahead. He smirked and tossed a dagger into the back of the nearest man.  
  
--------------------  
  
One of Gatta's men grinned as he stuck his sword into the closest Yevonite's throat. The man gargled a scream and the rest of the men were taken by surprise. Gatta lunged at a sandy haired Yevonite, totally taken the young man by surprise. A moment later, with a freshly blood soaked sword, Gatta was ripping a rifle from one of Nyka's men's hands, plowing the butt of the gun into his temple. Gatta laughed, realizing that maybe, just maybe, they had a chance of winning.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston, upon hearing shots and the clanks of swords, rolled his arm forward, and charged the craters, the men following him at full speed. Weston growled loudly and drove his sword deep into the chest of a Yevonite, hearing the young man cry out in both shock and pain. He withdrew his sword, and in a wide stroke, sliced across the face of another white- robed soldier.  
  
Weston could feel both Crusader and Yevonite alike dropping like flies around him. But he couldn't focus on what was going around him, for he was only one small part of something larger. His sword slashed into another Yevonite, and another. His body was contorting oddly, almost inhumanly as he dodged daggers and rifle shots. The only goal he had was to dispatch the enemy, and he was doing so quite well.  
  
Gatta looked over, noticing now that Weston and his men had joined the fight. He fought his way over to where Weston was currently shoving his sword through a Yevonite's chest.  
  
"Need some help?" Gatta yelled over the sounds of wood and metal against flesh.  
  
Weston laughed and slashed away, noticing Ughol to the side of him, lobbing off an unfortunate Yevonite's head.  
  
The Crusaders were so enthralled in the battle, they failed to notice that most of the remaining Yevonites were beginning to fall back into the jungle. When Weston's sword failed to connect with anymore flesh, he raised an eyebrow and started running about, trying to find more opponents. One of the Crusader's yelled out as loud as he could, "They're retreating!"  
  
Weston turned his attention to the tree line and, sure enough, the remainder of Nyka's men, about forty men in total, was making for the trees at breakneck speed, their rifles on the ground. Gatta growled and squatted next to a wounded Crusader, tending to the man's wounds.  
  
Ughol called out, "We going after them?"  
  
Gatta looked to Weston, and then to Ughol. "No. We've got wounded to take care of."  
  
Weston started for the line, but stopped and sheathed his filthy sword, leaning down to grab a dropped potion. He shuffled over to a wounded Crusader and administered the potion before standing back up and surveying the scene. The grown was torn beyond proper comprehension, dead bodies littering the ground, looking as if someone had taken a sheet of paper and torn it to bits, letting the pieces fall to the ground. But these pieces had once been live men. Still, the shock of what he'd taken part in didn't hit him, mainly due to his high adrenaline level. But even when he came off of the battle high, he'd not feel regret. He'd only have a sore body and an aching head. He hoped Gatta, Ughol, and the rest of the remaining Crusaders could learn to push away the emotional attachment that war tore into. Remorse wasn't something a soldier could have when his enemy was the same species as he. A soldier had to form a hate, and treat his enemy as lowly as he would an insect. Otherwise, a soldier couldn't fight.  
  
Weston picked up a Crusader's body and carried it towards the path, starting the long clean up process.  
  
--------------------  
  
If it hadn't been for her dream, Yuna probably would've never woken up. The dream was of Tidus, floating down from the sky. His eyes wrapped around her, warming her troubled heart and offering comfort that nothing else could. Even though it was only a dream, the feel of his lips, of his face, and his hair, lingered with her even now, as she was walking back and forth on the wedding stage, waiting for word from Kilika.  
  
Every brush of cool breeze against her cheek made her close her eyes, thinking of the dream. Instead of her usual depression that came with such dreams, she felt supported, as if she could do anything, even if Tidus wasn't by her side physically.  
  
Day had turned into night, and the small village of Besaid was drowned in light from the lanterns that lined the paths and walkways. Yuna could see Lulu stirring some substance in a pot above a convenient fire placed right out of her hut's doorway. Yuna, from the smell, assumed it was some sort of stew. She walked over, kneeling next to the fire.  
  
Lulu smiled, looking up from the pot. "Feeling better?"  
  
Yuna smiled in return, nodding. "Yes."  
  
"Good. Now, mind telling me what had you so distraught? I saw some troops leaving. Something happen in Kilika?"  
  
"From what one of the soldiers told me, a battle had broken out, and women...children...were killed. Mention the word 'massacre'."  
  
Lulu looked past Yuna, as if in shock, but blinked sense back into herself. She hid her sad thoughts by returning her eyes back to the stew, stirring it vigorously.  
  
"That's...terrible...Any word yet?"  
  
"None."  
  
Yuna sighed and stood up once more.  
  
"Stew's almost ready if you want some," Lulu offered.  
  
Yuna shook her head. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry at the moment."  
  
Lulu nodded and, after covering her pale hands, picked up the streaming pot and took it into the hut. Yuna headed back towards the temple.  
  
--------------------  
  
A soldier came up to Gatta, blood soaking his uniform. "Bodies are in the ship, ready to be taken to Besaid."  
  
Gatta nodded and waved the soldier off, looking at the mass of bodies now piled into the ship's hold. He sighed a shaky sigh, and stepped into the ship, giving the pile a wide berth. In all, they had counted nearly three hundred dead Crusaders. They had estimated about eleven hundred dead Yevonites, but that was based on the rocket attack plus the four hundred or so whole bodies they had counted, but not bothered dealing with, hoping that the retreated Yevonites would come pick them up. Gatta had selected about fifty men to return with Weston, Ughol, and him to Besaid, to help deal with the dead and regroup. The rest of the remaining Crusaders were posted into town, the heaviest guard patrols being sent to guard the field, with orders to let the Yevonites take their dead if they did not present a threat.  
  
Weston was sitting off to the side, leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him. His eyes seem to focus on something off into the distance, even farther than the pile of bodies. His face was still filthy, and his hands, as well as the front of his clothing, were covered in blood, and it wasn't his own.  
  
Gatta looked at him for a moment, and Weston didn't seem to notice, so he moved on, looking for Ughol. He found Ughol shortly after in the cockpit, where the pilot and navigator were going through the pre-flight checklist, readying the ship for the heavy load.  
  
Ughol looked up, his face also very dirty, making the whites of his eyes shine as if they were beacons. "Hey boss."  
  
Gatta nodded, no emotion showing on his face. "Hey."  
  
Ughol didn't seem to know what to say, and Gatta surely didn't have anything to say, not even pertaining to what they'd just been through.  
  
The two men stood in silence, each one of them not really looking at anything particular. They had shared a true battle of urgency and handled it well, at least in Gatta's opinion. But still, as Weston had said, nothing could compare to the horror that taking a fellow human's life harbored.  
  
The airship began to move and Gatta gripped the back of a chair to support himself as the ship jerked from the dock and turned, heading back to Besaid. Gatta knew it wouldn't be a long ride, had this been any normal ride. But this ride held about three hundred shattered lives and fifty forever-changed lives. He knew this would be a tremendous burden for everyone to bear, especially Yuna, but it was unavoidable. The town of Kilika was already taking heavy hits, seeing as the Yevonites had taken a third of the town's children in that cowardly act...  
  
Gatta then thought back to that lone little girl, she seeming to be the only survivor of the massacre. He sighed and blinked the thought away, not wanting to let it get to him. He was a soldier, and a leader. Leaders didn't have time to cry, nor did they think over what they've done, because what they've done is in the best interest of the people watching, and participating, in the war.  
  
Gatta closed his eyes and emptied his head. His body was begging him to find a bed to sleep on, but this night wasn't over yet. Ughol, once the airship had become steady, walked out of the cockpit, apparently heading back towards the hold. After a few moments, Gatta followed and found a rail to lean against as he stared at the pile of lifeless bodies.  
  
--------------------  
  
Wakka blinked the slumber from his eyes, a finger quickly tapping his shoulder. He looked to his right, and the sleeping form of Lulu was currently nuzzling into his thick bicep, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep. He then turned a sleepy eye to his left, and saw the source of the tapping. A Crusader mouthed to him to get up. Wakka raised a brow, but did as he was told, slowly sliding his arm out from under Lulu. He slipped on his sandals but didn't bother with a shirt. The soldier led him out of the hut and into the town center, where a shadowy, and not to mention grimy, group of soldiers were collected. Gatta was in the center. Weston and Ughol were standing off to the side, not saying a word. Yuna, who looked to be still half-asleep, was standing at the temple steps, watching as Gatta whispered to the men. It was then that Wakka noticed that most of the other village men had been stolen away from their slumbers. He stopped near the group and listened closely to Gatta's words.  
  
"We're going to be moving bodies of fallen Crusaders into the ocean. There's roughly three hundred or so, so we're needing every able bodied man. We would've went to the west end of the island, where the rest of the Crusader's barracks are, but we've got little time. The sun will be up in three hours and we need all the time we can get. We're not bothering with proper burial baskets. Like I said, we've got little time. Every man will carry a body, slide it into the tide, and then go back for another until told otherwise. This will not be a pretty process either. I hope you gentlemen don't like the clothes you're wearing now. Anyway, after the bodies have been moved, Yuna will send them. And don't say a word. The Farplane exists. We've probably all seen it. Regardless of what religious affiliation we are, we're going to send these souls. The last thing we need is a large group of fiends rampaging the island. Now, let's get to work. The bodies are in the airship."  
  
And with that, Wakka slowly followed the tiptoeing group of men to the docks. A line formed and the first body was handed out. When the man walked by with the corpse thrown over his shoulder, Wakka winced. Not only was the smell of death growing, but the actual condition of the bodies had been tampered with, probably because they'd been piled so snugly into one area. A knot grew in Wakka's stomach as he watched body after body, some of the men he knew, most he didn't, be carried by. This much death had not occurred since Sin was at large. Wakka never thought he would've seen so much death again, let alone be it by human hands. How a political conflict could grow into something so deadly, he did not know. He shook his head and moved forward, trying not to think, only do.  
  
The body was heavy, and Wakka had to use his wide shoulders to support it. The soldier looked no older than eighteen, the three bullet holes in his chest marking the end of his dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Wakka couldn't help but to let a tear roll down his cheek as he set the body into the tide, watching it float slowly off of shore, joining the many others. To Wakka, it was a march of the dead. A finger tapped his shoulder and he moved on, heading back to the docks. By sunlight, he would carry nearly thirty bodies to their resting place in the sea.  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna slowly walked along the shore, looking at the huge mass of bodies in front of her. Tears rolled down her cheeks in waves, almost mimicking the ocean that would carry the bodies to wherever the driftwood ended up. She raised her staff and swung it, beginning the death dance, the dance she thought she would never perform again when the Eternal Calm came. She twirled and watched as the pyreflies left the bodies, swirling up much like the water surrounding her. Each little prism ball of light shot for the sky, where, Yuna hoped, they'd find their way into the Farplane, and eternal happiness.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston watched the spectacle with little interest. Sure, he'd never seen something quite like this, but his mind was too tired, too jaded to care at the moment. He simply watched, letting the vision of Yuna's dance store into his memory, where he could marvel at it later.  
  
He could feel eyes on him, but he didn't care. He simply stood there, arms crossed, one leg still wrapped in his sleeve, the blood now clotted. The cloth of his sleeve had stuck to the blood clot, and every time he moved, it caused him pain, but he didn't really let it bother him. He knew that when he could find a place to rest, he'd pull the cloth off with force and let another blood clot form, wiping away whatever fresh blood dripped down his leg. Afterwards, he'd slap some iodine from his first aid kit and wrap it in some gauze.  
  
While he had grown to appreciate the potions, he couldn't find himself to use anything else but the remedies taught to him in basic training.  
  
When Yuna had finally finished, the Crusaders around him left, apparently going back to Kilika to reinforce the guards there. Ughol went with them while Gatta decided to stay back, to give, with Weston's help, a full report to Yuna about the events that led up to, and occurred during, the battle.  
  
But before Weston did any reporting, he made his way to the waterfalls along the back of the island. There, he washed his body, his clothes, and his mind of the gritty layer of dirt every battle seemed to leave behind.  
  
--------------------  
  
I truly think this chapter speaks for itself. But...  
  
If there were anything I'd say about this, it'd be three simple words: War is hell. ~No One 


	11. Chapter 11: A Fleeting Euphoria

Chapter 11: A Fleeting Euphoria  
  
Weston awoke, growling as he rubbed at his eyes. He swung his legs onto the wooden floor of his house, hunching over as he fumbled for his boots.  
  
He was clad in only a white tank top and his fatigues, which had been cleaned of the previous day's action. Only a tear where the bullet had grazed his shin was new, the gauze that covered the wound showing through the lacerated cloth.  
  
With a groan, and the popping of multiple bones, Weston stood, his heavy boots clunking against the wooden floor. Moving was a bit tough, mainly because his body was so stiff from the workout it had received in battle. Clumsily, he opened the door and stepped out into the bright sun, scratching at his sides as he yawned. His eyes squinted to adjust to the sun as he began looking around, noticing quite a bit of hustle and bustle about the center of Besaid village. He even saw some Crusaders milling about, some of the more seriously wounded ones bandaged, probably because the potions took longer on more serious injuries. The center of the village, right in front of the temple steps, was littered with people; Yuna, Wakka, and Lulu were on the makeshift altar, apparently rehearsing for the last time.  
  
Weston laughed to himself, forgetting through the chaos in Kilika that Wakka and Lulu were to be married today. He smirked at his own forgetfulness and walked forward, receiving a few waves and smiles from fellow soldiers. He returned them, his jaded attitude lifted with the night of deathly slumber. As Weston approached the altar, Yuna shot him a smile, and to her surprise, he shot it right back, causing her to blush. Wakka waved, or more precisely, motioned for Weston to come up onto the wooden platform.  
  
Weston nodded and stepped up.  
  
Wakka laughed and patted him on the back. "Hey dere. Like the setup?"  
  
Weston smiled. "Yeah, it's beautiful."  
  
"You betcha, had the best decorators out there," and he waved a hand in Yuna and Lulu's direction. They smiled and, for the first time, Lulu blushed in front of Weston, making her pale cheeks turn a vibrant red. Weston smiled to them and turned his gaze back to Wakka. He noticed that the former blitzer had bags under his eyes and growing stubble. Apparently, Wakka had been worrying over something, be it the war or the wedding or both, Weston didn't know.  
  
Weston smirked. "Nervous?"  
  
"Nah," Wakka said with a laugh. "Lu is though!"  
  
The pale Lulu heard the remark and came over, pushing Weston aside with a strength she didn't seem to have. She mocked a growl and tapped Wakka's nose.  
  
"You're the nervous one. I've been too busy with the decoration to notice the jitters." She smiled sheepishly and wrapped her arms around Wakka's neck, kissing his lips lightly. His large hands came to her relatively small waist and rested there as he returned the kiss. Weston smirked and left the two to their embrace, walking along the altar stage.  
  
The stage had two wide and long tables, both covered in beautiful white and gold tapestry, bowls, utensils, and goblets. It surprised Weston that such a small village could afford such expensive -looking- decorations. He eyed Yuna fluffing out some lace to trill around the corner of the table and made his way over there.  
  
"Busy day, eh?" he said, watching her finish tacking the lace.  
  
She looked up to him with a smile, and nodded. "Yes, quite."  
  
Weston noticed something in her eyes, something that he didn't particularly like. It seemed to be a sadness that didn't quite advertise "stability." His eyes locked to her own and he knew that something was amiss.  
  
She could tell what he was thinking, just by looking into his eyes. A person's eyes could show the true emotions, even when the face, and body, didn't.  
  
Weston coughed and looked away, turning and leaning against the edge of the long table. He looked to the sky and squinted, not wanting to ask her what's wrong. She dropped her head and walked off the stage, heading down a path towards the beach. Weston cocked his head, watching her as she left. After a moment, he decided to follow.  
  
--------------------  
  
He found her on the beach, knees up to her chin, eyes locked to the ocean. He could tell she had been crying, for her knees were glistening with what Weston knew wasn't the ocean.  
  
Weston padded over and sat down. Yuna didn't seem to notice, her gaze locked to the waves. He crossed his legs and sighed, putting his gaze to what she was looking at.  
  
He whispered softly, "Beautiful waves..."  
  
"Yeah..." she said in a shaky voice.  
  
The two sat in silence, just watching the horizon and the waves. Weston admired the scenery. Never in his life had he truly experienced an untouched beach, without the crowds of people and horrible smell of seaweed rotting on the shore. And Besaid beach was a beach that had untouched by Weston's American expansion, nor was it ever going to. Be America the past or the future or a whole other world, Weston didn't really know. It wasn't like he could do anything about it.  
  
Her timid, shaky voice broke his introspection. "What's it like, Weston?"  
  
"Hmm?" he asked, not wanting to really open his mouth just yet.  
  
"What is it like, to be in combat?"  
  
"Don't you have a little experience?"  
  
"I don't call fighting fiends and supernatural beings 'combat', or at least the combat of war..."  
  
"So you mean 'what is it like to take another human's life while trying to protect your own?' right?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
He sighed and shrugged. "It's not really something you think about in battle. In battle, you're main objectives are to kill the enemy and make it out alive. If you think about anything else, you're as good as dead. But as far as what it's like...it's taxing. Mentally and physically. You're either running for your life, running for the enemy's life, or hiding. You're so busy, you forget your taking people's lives."  
  
She hmmed, "I can't imagine what's that like."  
  
Weston smiled. "It's a good thing, trust me. Be glad you won't have to experience it."  
  
She half-smiled, nodding. The somber look on her face didn't leave, though, even through the smile. Weston sighed and kept his gaze on the ocean. A few moments later, he said out of the side of his mouth, "You miss him, don't you? You've probably buried him, mentally, but your heart just screams for his return."  
  
She sighed and buried her face into her knees, muffling her sobbing "Yes"  
  
He nodded and hunched a bit, face drooping as he leaned forward. "I know the feeling. Everyday I look back and remember that fateful afternoon when my life changed. I was only nine when my parents were killed, but I've never forgotten them, or what they meant to me. Every waking moment I'm fighting back thoughts of them. Sure, I have the mental block, but I'll be damned if my heart doesn't make me remember them in some form or another. My dad taking me to baseball games, my mother's cooking and obsessive house cleaning...I can no longer picture these visions, but I can damn well feel them. And feeling something is ten times as worse as -seeing- them."  
  
Weston sighed, blinking away the thoughts. He could feel her gaze on him, but he didn't want to meet it, in fear of what he'd do, feeling so vulnerable at the moment. He groaned and stood, not bothering to look at her.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to lose your parents...but I'm curious, how did you know about...-him-?"  
  
Weston smirked. "Wakka's a great source of information."  
  
She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm so happy for him."  
  
"Yeah. It's great to have someone to spend the rest of your life with, I'm sure."  
  
This comment seemed to get to her and he regretted saying it. A silence once again fell, making Weston extremely nervous. He'd take combat over an awkward silence any day.  
  
Finally, she spoke up. "What about you? Do you have anyone?"  
  
Weston laughed, sounding sarcastic but not meaning to. "Unless you count the Army, I've never been married or involved with anyone."  
  
"I imagine the life of a soldier is a lonely one."  
  
"Lonely? No. Deprived of deep, meaningful emotion shared between two people? Yes. There -is- a difference. As a soldier, you're never lonely. You are, however, surrounded by a wall that just screams death, destruction, and mayhem. It's a stigma that doesn't really fit us, but people are afraid to get involved with a soldier outside of the army, mainly because they know they're safe. But me? I never know when my time will come. I don't have life security. The friends I make either choose me, or are made on the battlefield."  
  
"No one, even when you weren't a soldier?"  
  
"Let's just say that I wasn't particularly liked as a kid. I got into trouble, jumped from school to school and home to home. I didn't have time for friends, let alone an emotional attachment."  
  
She nodded, making him appreciate her not pressing further. He had buried these thoughts long ago, and he dreaded bringing them back up.  
  
Another silence fell, but since Weston thought he was the one who brought it on, he didn't really mind it.  
  
He stood, motionless, letting the breeze from the ocean pelt his statuesque form. He closed his eyes and breathed in the salty air, enjoying the feeling. If he were just another guy, this would be heaven. But he knew that, soon enough, this little haven would be disrupted once again.  
  
He laughed, thinking to himself that Nyka had been considerate enough not to do anything on this ceremonious day, even though the day was still relatively young.  
  
Soon, Weston had had enough of the silence and said softly, "You'll find him, Yuna. Somewhere, somehow. He's out there, and I know you believe that with every bit of your soul."  
  
She sighed softly and nodded, looking up to him. His eyes me with hers and by the state of her gaze, he could see she believed it. He smiled and started heading back to the village.  
  
--------------------  
  
Fagan sighed and opened his eyes. His chest was covered with a thin arm and he looked to his left, smiling warmly as the vision of his wife's face met his eyes. Her visage was one of contentment as she snuggled into his shoulder, mmming softly to herself. He ran a hand through her hair and slowly got up, pulling a robe around his naked form. With a sigh, he walked to the nearest window and pulled the drape's corner to the side. His eyes scanned the horizon, the newly risen sun nearly blinding him. Through his squinted eyes, he then turned his gaze to the city below. The city of Bevelle itself was very expansive, but no matter where you were in the city, you could see the temple at its center.  
  
With a sigh, Fagan turned the drape's corner back and headed into a small alcove that resembled a cooking area. He kneeled down, placed a few wooden timbers into the bottom of a stove-like iron appliance and grabbed a primitive match, which was more or less gun-power on a stick, and struck against the side of the stove. He tossed the now lit match into the bottom and headed towards a collection of shelves. From the shelf, he pulled a bag of green leaves and a small circular pot. He pumped water from a large barrel into the pot and added the leaves. Just as he was placing the pot on top of the stove, his wife, Elaine shuffled behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.  
  
He grinned and turned his head, kissing the tip of her nose. "Morning."  
  
She smiled and scrunched up her nose a bit, returning the kiss to his cheek. "Morning."  
  
"Tea?"  
  
"Of course." And with that she slowly slid from the embrace and grabbed two metal cups from the shelf, placing them on a small round table in the center of the offshoot. She sat and motioned for him to do the same. He nodded and sat, smiling at her from across the table. Her warm smile seemed to have a tinge of worry, and his brow rose after a moment.  
  
"Something wrong?"  
  
Elaine sighed, her smile fading. "You spoke again, Fagan. In your sleep."  
  
He hmmed. "What did I say?"  
  
"Something about murdering the innocent..."  
  
Fagan sighed, shaking his head as his neck failed to hold the weight of his cranium up. "It's nothing, love."  
  
She sighed, leaning forward. "It -is- something. Something's got you worried and I hate being in the dark about it...Ever since Lord Nyka started his crusade...you've seemed distant..."  
  
Fagan sighed once more, tossing his long sandy locks from his face. "Elaine...I wish I could tell you..."  
  
"Is it about what happened in Kilika?"  
  
"How do you know about that?" Fagan asked, more shock than anger in his voice.  
  
"Word gets around, especially when one is a councilman's wife..."  
  
Fagan sighed, nodding. "Elaine...It..."  
  
I know Fagan, having our Army defeated in battle is hard to accept...but it's going to happen. Yuna's army won't be able to win every time, ya know."  
  
Fagan hung his head even lower, hating the fact that his wife was just as clueless as any other misled citizen.  
  
His gaze returned to hers, his look serious, truthful. "Elaine. It wasn't an ambush. Our troops killed innocent people to lure the Crusader's out and then paid the ultimate price for it. Nyka's only fueling the patriotic fire."  
  
For a moment, and only a moment, he thought he touched her, but then she laughed. "Surely you jest, dear. Nyka would never lie, even in the common good of the people. You should be ashamed of yourself, joking like that."  
  
She smiled at him with a wink, but his countenance remained firm, making her smile fade fast. "You're...serious, aren't you?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes."  
  
She raised a brow and drew back in her chair, watching him. "Surely, you're only..."  
  
"I'm not joking."  
  
"...Fagan! I'm disappointed in you. What, are you going to spread rumors now? Get some public distrust for Nyka, and then, while our great leader is betrayed, take his power from him?"  
  
"No..I"  
  
"Fagan. This is preposterous. Are you feeling well? Maybe you should lie down? Here," and she made her way to the boiling tea, pouring a bit into one of the cups, "have some tea. It might make this...mind cloud of yours dissipate."  
  
He waved a hand, shaking his head. "I'm of perfect sound mind. I need no tea to tell the truth."  
  
She placed the cup down heavily on the table, causing a bit of the steaming tea to land on the wood. His eyes turned to the steaming puddle in front of him, and he didn't notice her storming off to the bedroom.  
  
When she emerged fully clothed, shopping satchel firmly attached to her side was the moment Fagan realized that the most important thing to him was walking out onto the street without even a goodbye.  
  
He sighed and went into the bedroom, slipping off his morning robe and slipping on a silky shirt and trousers. Silk was one of the many benefits a councilman got to experience. After this, he threw his white robe over his clothing and grabbed his staff. He turned curtly, making his robe sway to and fro and made his way out of the door, locking it behind him. He turned and looked out onto the busy street, sighing heavily as he began the trudge to the temple.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston hmmed, watching as the seats filled with villagers. He was standing outside of the general area, so what was said at the altar, he couldn't hear. All he knew was that Wakka was nervous as hell, and Lulu was trying to preoccupy herself, even at the last moment. As far as he could tell, it wasn't going to be a ceremony he was used to seeing. Without a god to speak of, or any true semblance of law, this wedding was going to be as bare bones as possible. The only thing that could be truly established was the bond of love.  
  
He didn't stand very close for one main reason: he didn't feel like he should be involved. Despite the others protesting, telling him he had as much a right as any to attend the ceremony, he refused. This was something that had brewed long before he had arrived, and he didn't want to intercede. Besides, something about a wedding during a war made Weston feel odd, even if he couldn't really explain why.  
  
As a soldier, he knew of several fellow men that served, and died, with him, that had families they widowed. Most of the men he served with were either single or just married, and he knew, himself, that being married and being a soldier made you a marked man. You couldn't let yourself die, because you were in a love bond with someone. But, the enemy seemed to know just who to kill, and every funeral Weston had helped martial, was one with crying wives, even children sometimes. Of course, he felt guilty. How could he not? Here he was, an orphan, single, and a man without a past or, truthfully, a reason to go on living, and he wasn't dead. But Private Bateman or Private Willis, whichever John Doe on the Army's roster lay in this coffin at this particular moment, was gone, leaving a widow and/or children behind to grieve the loss of a spouse and parent.  
  
But, Weston said to himself in his thoughts, better one parent than both...  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by Gatta's nudging elbow.  
  
"You just going to watch from here?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'll keep ya company. Not much of one for weddings myself."  
  
Weston smirked. "Someone a bit bitter?"  
  
Gatta shrugged. "Not really, but it makes ya feel guilty. Here we are, two men who've already killed so many...Tainted men, ya know? And there's Wakka, who is called 'one of the saviors of Spira', marrying another savior. They kill a spiritual being, they're legends. You and I, we kill a few regular guys, we're butchers, even in the minds of the people supporting us. That kinda kicks ya out of being very...social with the common citizens."  
  
Weston nodded with a smile. "Not very fair, eh? We're risking our lives, and they turn their noses like we're rotted meat."  
  
"Yeah, but that's the life of a soldier."  
  
"I know. Wish I'd've set up shop as a carpenter. Wouldn't be here now."  
  
Gatta laughed. "Yeah, you'd be in your own world, building houses for people and probably have a family."  
  
Weston nodded, his disposition turning a bit sour. "Family history isn't one of my strong suits."  
  
"That makes you the perfect soldier."  
  
Weston cocked a brow.  
  
Gatta smiled, not turning his gaze from the final preparations being made at the altar. "You've got no family ties. You're not married, you don't have kids. You're a man without a past or future. So, you're the perfect infantryman. Problem is, it's never guys like you and me who get killed. It's always the guy with the wife and two kids. A shame, really."  
  
"Very much so."  
  
And at that, the two stood in silence, watching the time tick by, approaching the beginning of the ceremony. Gatta's arms were crossed, as if he were waiting on something. Weston just stood there, arms at his side, legs spread a little.  
  
After a little while, Weston noticed a hush go over the crowd in the seats. A man in ceremonial garb stood from a seat at the altar, and motioned for Wakka, who was now dressed in a long yellow robe, with sash, to approach him. Wakka did so and bowed. Next, the man motioned to the end of the aisle, which led straight into Wakka and Lulu's shared hut.  
  
Lulu emerged from the ceremonial tent at the end of the ailse in a long back dress that cut off at mid-bosom, not leaving much to the imagination. Weston and Gatta's eyes followed her to the altar, where she stepped up, arms staying at her sides. The priest spoke to each of them individually, and then turned to the center, motioning for them to face one another. Wakka took Lulu's hands in his own and their eyes locked.  
  
Weston wondered what it was like to love someone enough to pledge loyalty for the rest of your life. The concept had never seemed to be graspable to him, but he knew that love was powerful, for he'd seen men die, crying out their mother's, wife's or children's names as they blinked out of existence.  
  
He watched as the priest said some lengthy passage, probably something along the lines of "love and support her/him" etc. After what seemed like ages, Wakka and Lulu kissed passionately, causing the seated villagers to jump to their feet cheering. Weston saw Yuna wiping a few tears as she stood and walked from her seat. She stopped a few feet near the aisle and watched, clapping all the while, as the two walked down the aisle leading to the reception tent. At the tent, Wakka pulled Lulu off her feet and nodded to the crowd, slinking into the tent afterwards.  
  
Gatta gave Weston a knowing wink and started walking towards the tent.  
  
--------------------  
  
"I want Luca."  
  
Cleagan sighed, not knowing what to say to his boss.  
  
"I want Luca, and I want it now. If we can get Luca, we can get even more support, even if we have to force them at gunpoint! We're not going to have another Kilika. Their troops have not moved an inch and this day is our opportunity."  
  
Cleagan cleared his throat. "But sir..."  
  
"No buts. You men get on it. Issue the order. Take Luca at all costs."  
  
The councilmen nodded and started leaving. Nyka cleared his throat and winced as the sun hit his eyes, his gaze weakened even more so as he looked across the horizon.  
  
"Fagan," he called in a gruff voice.  
  
Fagan sighed as he turned from the door, wondering why he was always the one to be picked upon by the old man.  
  
"Yes, Lord?"  
  
"You studied the Al-Bhed culture and language, did you not?"  
  
"Received high marks, sir."  
  
"Then you can help me."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I want to know everything you do about the Al-Bhed. How they think, what they like to do for fun, how they know so much about machina..."  
  
"Well, sir, it'd take quite a long-"  
  
"We've got plenty of -time-, Fagan. It's patience that I'm short on. I want to know everything. I know you may be asking yourself as to why, so I'll fill you in, my dear boy. Their "Home" is being rebuilt. Personally, I hate to say this, but spiritually, it is Yevon's will. We are to use their advanced machina to win this war. Without it, we are at loss. Remember, that had it not been for the Crusaders using that ship against our men, we wouldn't be in this situation. Now tell me all that you know, young boy, so that I may better understand the Al-Bhed, and how we can obtain some of their...machina."  
  
Fagan swallowed hard, and regretfully started Nyka's lesson with the Al-Bhed's language.  
  
--------------------  
  
Gatta and Weston sat at the end of the long table, the couple all the way across from them on the other end. Toasts were being given, and people were being thanked, but not a word was said about the 'victory' in Kilika or were any soldiers thanked. As a matter of fact, Weston could see that the only Crusader present was Gatta. He leaned over and whispered into Gatta's ear.  
  
"Where are your men? Thought they would've at least provided protection."  
  
"They don't feel welcomed."  
  
Weston nodded and leaned back, only to see a few dozen pairs of eyes staring at him. And, in a way, this made him feel more nervous than a few gun barrels in the face would have.  
  
"Sorry," he said softly and the toasts continued.  
  
Gatta nudged Weston and the two men left the tent, walking out into the afternoon sun. Gatta leaned against a nearby tree and Weston stuffed his hands into his hip pockets, feeling very unwelcome at the moment.  
  
Gatta laughed. "Guess that was obvious enough."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, it's all for the better. Soldiers are tainted, like I said. We no more belonged in there than Ughol belongs on a Chocobo.  
  
Weston cocked an eyebrow, causing Gatta to laugh.  
  
"Chocobo. Large bird that can't fly. We used them for transportation. But, Ughol's too heavy for them."  
  
Weston laughed, even though he still didn't quite get it.  
  
Gatta seemed to notice the gesture and punched Weston's upper arm. "Don't bother humoring me, Weston. I knew that joke was lost on you."  
  
Weston smirked and turned to see Yuna heading their way. Weston crossed his arms and stood, watching her as she walked over.  
  
She bowed and muttered a few apologies before saying, "We didn't mean to push you out of the ceremony."  
  
Weston laughed. "Don't worry about it. We knew we weren't welcome. Soldiers fresh from battle don't belong at a wedding and you know it."  
  
Gatta chimed in, "The same thing happened years ago, when Sin attacked this village. Fresh from battle, my father tried to attend a wedding. He was pushed out by queer and angry stares."  
  
Weston nodded and turned his attention back to Yuna. "Don't feel sorry, Yuna. It's just the way it works. We're not disappointed about it. Lord knows, some happiness needs to come to these people. It's not going to be easy, ya know, fighting this war."  
  
She nodded, and sighed. "We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for protecting Kilika. It was brave."  
  
Gatta shook his head. "It wasn't bravery that saved Kilika, but duty. Bravery has nothing to do with being a soldier. It's our job to put our life on the line for whatever cause we're ordered to fight for. I just wish it hadn't been so one sided."  
  
She sighed, shaking her head. "Gatta, I realize that it didn't seem fair, but the missiles from the airship were what saved both you and your men's lives. What had happened if all of Nyka's force had hit your men?"  
  
He replied through gritted teeth, "More than likely we'd be dead and Kilika would be Nyka's."  
  
She nodded. "Then look at it that way. A victory is a victory."  
  
Weston laughed. "Sometimes, it's not that simple. There are no "winners" in war, Yuna. Just a guy who comes out of it with the most land or surviving troops. But everyone loses, on both sides. Lives are lost. What more can one give besides your soul?"  
  
Her head dropped a bit, and nodded a bit.  
  
Gatta spoke up. "A life is something precious. Taking it from someone is the worst feeling in the world. The guilt it causes is insurmountable."  
  
Weston nodded in agreement, but then added, "After awhile, it gets easy. But the mental blocks you put up will stay there for the rest of your life. God help you if you let those walls down. I've seen men in nuthouses that were good soldiers, but, they're just empty shells now."  
  
Yuna wondered about the "God" comment, seeing as Weston didn't specifically say the name of the deity he was referring to. After a moment, she nodded and whispered, "Peace be with you, sirs," and left for the tent.  
  
Gatta smirked at Weston and he returned it.  
  
"Funny how she'll never understand, isn't it, Weston?"  
  
"Extremely."  
  
"Let's make sure she'll never have to understand. 'God help' her if she does one day."  
  
Weston noticed the use of his phrase and turned. "A believer, are we?"  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"-In- God."  
  
"You sound like you're using "god" as a name, not a simple word."  
  
"My god doesn't have a name. He simply -is-"  
  
"Right."  
  
Weston shrugged, not wishing to go into his beliefs with Gatta, for he knew that it was a lost cause. He simply sat down on the dirt path and waited, with Gatta at his side, for the ceremony to end.  
  
--------------------  
  
When Fagan arrived at his home, Elaine was still not back. It really worried him, since it was approaching nightfall fast, and Bevelle had its share of shady characters at night. Mostly vagabonds and heathens. But, even Fagan had to admit, his faith in Nyka, and New Yevon was wavering. He couldn't remember, after studying Yevon's teachings for so long, where Yevon had condoned the murder of innocent life to spread the word. And never had Yevon said a council, or singular leader should take it upon himself to destroy the heathens.  
  
He sighed and disrobed, unbuttoning the silk shirt and letting mild air hit his pale, bird-like chest. With the flick of his ankles, he sent his sandals flying across the bed and into the wall. What Fagan lacked in upper body strength, he made up in leg power.  
  
Fagan's back sunk into the comfortable chair and his staff dropped off to the side. His eyes slowly closed and he couldn't seem to burn the image of Nyka, sitting there, nodding intently as Fagan sold away the secrets of the Al-Bhed. It sickened him to no end. He knew he was just damning the culture he studied for years, a culture he had actually grown to appreciate.  
  
But, he know, Nyka was now planning to take, or raid, Home for technology to combat the Crusaders. What he knew that Nyka didn't was that the Crusaders didn't have any advanced machina besides the airship, and that the Crusaders had probably used up the missiles in the Kilika battle.  
  
Slowly the thoughts in his head faded, and he fell into a light sleep, dreaming, among all things, that his Elaine would return to him.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Lord."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"The troops are an hour away from Luca. They should be there by nightfall." "Good."  
  
"And what are there orders upon arrival?"  
  
"Attack, full on. All five thousand troops. Take the town, every single building. Kill all who oppose. Put heathens in their place. Let them beg on the street while our soldiers seek refuge in their homes. That should teach them"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
--------------------  
  
Fagan's eyes shot open as the door closed. He sprang to his feet, ready to run if need be. But, he saw a sullen face meet his own.  
  
Elaine slowly trudged in, setting her satchel on the bed.  
  
He whispered, "Where have you been?"  
  
She replied in a terse tone, "In Merchant's Square. And then I found my way to the temple. I spoke to Nyka while the council was out to lunch."  
  
"What did you speak to him about?" he managed, trying not to sound shocked or angry.  
  
"You and how I can help you curb these thoughts..."  
  
"Elaine I..."  
  
"Don't bother with it. He didn't tell me anything but 'Do not worry, I will talk to him.' Did he?"  
  
Fagan thought of all the possible answers, but chose the least harming one. "Yes, we actually talked for some time." He tried to hold in a laugh at this, even though he knew that this certainly wasn't the time for a joke.  
  
She nodded and went to her chest, changing into her bedclothes, a thin silk pajama top and thick wool bottoms. He only stood there, not quite sure of what to say.  
  
Finally, she turned. "I pray he talked some sense into you. But, he was certainly interested in what you had said. He seemed shocked. Almost more shocked than I was."  
  
Fagan swallowed and closed his eyes, wishing this whole situation would just disappear, but something within him told him to forge on as he saw fit, for that was the true way of living. After a moment, she hmmed and shook her head. "I doubt it did. You're very stubborn...especially lately."  
  
He started to say something, but decided not to, and went into the kitchen alcove. He made a pot of tea and sat, sipping quietly as his wife lay in bed. Time had seemed to speed by him as he napped, and he could see that the night had grown old. The moon was high in the sky, and he knew it was near midnight. What took his wife so long, he couldn't guess, but it had him worried.  
  
He failed to notice his trembling hands as he looked to the jitter tea in his cup. With a heavy sigh, he drank the rest in one gulp, got changed, and slipped into bed. Tomorrow was not going to be a fun day for Councilman Fagan.  
  
--------------------  
  
A/N: Whew, a boring chapter indeed. No violence, no guns going boom, no nothing :P I was going to include a very long section all about the wedding, but, sadly, after fifteen rewrites (That's what took this chapter so dang long) I decided to just put it from Weston's point of view and skip the lovey dovey stuff for now. Who knows, I might actually do a mini-fic on just the romance between Lulu and Wakka that's briefly touched on throughout this fic so far.  
  
Another thing about this chapter: We see even more depth added to Fagan. Why? Well, in some stories, major characters aren't even introduced until halfway through. And it just so happened that Fagan wasn't all that important to me in the beginning. He was originally just going to make a one-shot appearance in Part One (Chapters 1-9) but then he came back up in later chapters, and well, my outline needed fleshing out. So, Fagan grows into a major character in this chapter and will continue to be one throughout the remaining chapters.  
  
Speaking on more important characters...Rikku will return in a big way soon, so look out for that. Tidus is still on his way, but it's coming slow, I know. Also, Chapter 12 introduces a whole new character, one of my own device. But that's all I'll say about that.  
  
And, I'd like to start thanking people at the end of chapters, so here goes: I'd like to thank, first of all, the readers of Akin to Sin. Without you, there wouldn't be a fic...well, there would, it'd just be really boring. Thanks to you guys, I've added and changed many things that make this, in my opinion, much better than it would've been. I'd also like to thank my friends and fellow writers Brandon and Lauren (THE LOTR and Potter fan ^^, ff.net id number 202691) for helping me flesh out some details I just couldn't get down quite right. Thanks also to Coca~Cola company for making an addictive substance known only as "Vanilla Coke" and Kellogg's for all the Nutra-Grain goodies I've wolfed down writing this fic. Thanks goes to the following bands for making the writing experience seem a bit easier: System of a Down, Cradle of Filth, Opeth, Linger, Slayer, Spil, Eyebolt, Obliveon, Idea Killer, Meshugga, and many more I've switched on and off of my winamp playlist these past few months. Thanks also to my teachers, who think I take tons of notes, even though it's really this ficcy... ^^;;;  
  
See ya next chapter. ~No One 


	12. Chapter 12: The Fall of Luca with FAQ

Chapter 12: The Fall of Luca/FAQ (At Bottom, under A/N)  
  
Eimour groaned, looking out into the night sky. From her third story apartment, she could see the tip of the lit Blitzball dome. She wondered why a game had stretched this late.  
  
She let her gaze drop to her hands, wondering why they were trembling. Somewhere, deep inside of her, she knew something was amiss. What that something was, she didn't know.  
  
With another sigh, she looked to her bed, where her seven year old son, Garrit -Gary for short- lay asleep. She smiled, watching the dark- haired boy snuggle into the covers. Gary was all she had, besides her job at the stadium. She worked the concessions eight hours a day, but the pay was not good. The two usually had to live off of bread and water some weeks, mainly so she could gather enough Gil to give Gary a decent meal the next week. She was lucky that the Inn's owner was a good friend of her mothers. Otherwise, she and her son would be out on the street.  
  
Her smile faded as the memories poured into her. With a quiet sob, her eyes shot to the wall mirror across from the window, near the small bed. The reflection that she saw was not of a twenty-six year old woman, but of her nineteen-year old form, the form she had when she met the bastard of a merchant from Bevelle. He had promised her the world all in one night, but left her pregnant and alone in the back room of a pub the next morning. It had happened so fast, she could scarcely remember the events. That night, she lost her innocence, and her life, really. She poured every waking moment after that night into the son she was blessed with. When Garrit had grown old enough to comprehend certain things, he started asking where his father was. Eimour had never told him the truth, but instead, made up a vision of a great soldier, who had loved her very much. She always ended her story with "He blessed me with you before he left for war. I've not seen or heard from him since. He'll return someday. I know it."  
  
Of course, this feigned hope was the last thing on her mind. She had shunned love, calling herself immature to fall in love upon first sight. She had always believed in it before that particular night, but love wasn't something shared between two adults to her anymore. It was shared between a mother and son.  
  
Slowly the twenty-year old image faded, and her true form emerged from the mist. Her long black hair was tousled, knotted, and hadn't been washed in days. The thin-bridged nose and thick lips were the only survivors of aging before one's time. Her gray eyes had lost some of their gleam, and bags appeared under them.  
  
She slowly stood to better assess the damage. Her body hadn't changed much, save for the extra muscle now padding her shoulders and arms. The shirt covering her bosom wasn't too tight, mainly due to the fact that she couldn't fill it out very well. Her stomach still bore the stretch marks of pregnancy, but had lost the ballooned, well-fed look over the years. Instead, a lean, fit wall of muscle surrounded her navel. Of course, her hips had widened due to giving birth, but they weren't ghastly wide. The legs holding all of this up were still as firm as they were six years ago.  
  
Another sigh escaped her throat and she again turned to Garrit. His looks had obviously taken after her. He too had black hair, his eyes gray. The only physical attribute he seemed to take from the merchant was a set of broad shoulders. She felt a sob creeping up, but reminded herself that Gary was the best thing that could've happened to her, and was the only thing the merchant had given her.  
  
She bent over and ran a hand through the boy's fine hair, another trait he took from his mother. He stirred a bit and curled into a tight ball. She smiled warmly and found a seat on a bench facing the bed. After a short while, she began to hear screams, shouting, and a few popping noises. She laughed to herself, thinking that the blitzball crowd was finally making it home. Soon, she would wish that was all it -really- was.  
  
--------------------  
  
The Inn's door burst open and three soldiers in white robes barged in, guns aimed right at the attendant's head.  
  
The one closest to him shouted, "Do you pledge allegiance to Honorable Lord Nyka?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Only once more. Do you pledge allegiance to Lord Nyka?"  
  
"Nyka...what?"  
  
The solder fired a single bullet into the attendant's forehead, causing the man's brain matter to splatter against the wall. The soldier that had fired cocked his head and the other two men followed him into the owner's office.  
  
A few moments later, the owner lay motionless on the floor, blood seeping from a fresh head wound.  
  
The soldiers made their way quickly up the stairs, to the first floor. Each man went for a door and kicked it in. A couple of shots rang before the leading soldier had a chance to ask the couple in his room if they were going to pledge allegiance or not.  
  
The other two soldiers came in and stood, rifles pointed towards the older couple. In unison, all three shouted "Do you, or do you not pledge allegiance to Lord Nyka?"  
  
"We do! We do!"  
  
The men nodded and ran out of the room, satisfied with a simple yes.  
  
--------------------  
  
Eimour jumped from her seat the moment the blast echoed through her floor. Immediately, she grabbed Gary and slid under the bed, putting her hand over his protesting mouth.  
  
She didn't know what was going on, but it certainly wasn't an after- game party. She heard shouts, popping noises, and hard thuds. She also heard footsteps, heavy ones, that started as quickly as they stopped. She'd hear footsteps, shouting, and depending on the nature of the shouts, she'd hear nothing, or a popping noise, and then more footsteps.  
  
By the nature of the sounds, and the echoing factor, Eimour guessed the footsteps were nearing her room. She hugged onto Gary tightly, her hand pressed hard against his mouth, all the while whispering silent, comforting words into his ear.  
  
In the tense moment, Eimour's hearing tripled its strength, and every breath, every creak, every little nuance became a violent boom. She tried to concentrate on Gary's heartbeat, trying to match hers to his, just trying to keep her mind off of the chaos outside of the door.  
  
Sadly, she heard the footsteps stop right outside of her door, and before she could try to calm herself, her body jumped at the sound of the door splitting under the weight of a heavy foot.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Anyone in here?"  
  
One of the soldiers looked around, scanning the room. "Looks empty. Could be at the Blitzball game."  
  
The leader smirked. "Well, if they are, they're in for a treat."  
  
The soldiers laughed.  
  
Under the bed, Eimour and Garrit lay motionless, trying not to breathe, trying to hide each other's beating heart from the men standing mere feet from them.  
  
One of the soldiers sighed, rolling his neck. "Well, looks like this building is taken care of."  
  
"Yeah, I think we should head next door. It's a pub. While we 'convert' some Lucans, we can grab a drink. Sound good men?"  
  
The other two cheered and fired their rifles into the ceiling. A few moments later, Eimour's hearing could no longer pick up the faint footsteps of the soldiers, who were well on their way to the pub next door. She slowly pulled her hand from Gary's mouth, who immediately whispered, "What's going on, mommy?"  
  
"I don't know, pumpkin...but let's stay here for awhile, ok?"  
  
The child nodded and curled into fetal position in his mother's arms. Eimour curled up as well, trying to add as much warmth and comfort to Gary that she could. Soon, the two fell asleep, oblivious to the mayhem that was occurring around the inn they inhabited.  
  
--------------------  
  
Nyka awoke with a bright smile on his face. Deep in his old bones, he could feel a tide turning. He could smell his victory it was so close. As he approached his wardrobe, a smile crept to his bearded face. Quickly, he slipped on a long robe and grabbed his knobby staff. He headed into his office, approaching his assistant, and the military messenger with a warm smile.  
  
"Good morning, gentlemen. It's a beautiful day indeed, isn't it?"  
  
The messenger smiled and the assistant did nothing but continue standing, a statue of emotionless proportions.  
  
The messenger bowed, his smile never leaving. "Good news, my Lord. Luca is ours."  
  
The old man laughed heartily and tapped his staff against the floor, almost going into a dance. But, he controlled himself, despite his smile never leaving.  
  
"Good, good. Any troop casualties?"  
  
"None."  
  
"Excellent, excellent."  
  
"There were, however, a significant number of citizen-"  
  
"I don't care how many citizens died. The ones that did deserved it. Remember, everything we do is Yevon's will, no matter how atrocious it may seem."  
  
"Yes, Lord."  
  
"Any word from the heathens."  
  
"We don't believe Yuna or the Crusaders know of our winning Luca just yet."  
  
"Excellent. Keep the enemy in the dark."  
  
"Should we reinforce the city, sir? Just incase the Crusaders do come."  
  
"If they don't know, we've got nothing to worry about. Besides, I'm confident in my men."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Take the more prestigious homes and inns and convert them into barracks for our officers. Let the lower ranks use the Blitzball stadium. It's got enough room."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Anything else to report?"  
  
"Not at the moment, sir."  
  
"Good. Go find something to report."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
And with that, the messenger bowed once more and left the office.  
  
Nyka turned to his assistant. "Today is a very glorious day."  
  
The assistant nodded.  
  
"Take the day off, enjoy yourself."  
  
The assistant nodded once more and left the office, leaving Nyka to wonder why the assistant had accepted so quickly.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Mommy! Come look!"  
  
Eimour's eyes slowly crept open, the sunlight that rushed in causing her pupils to close in. "W...what is it, Gary?"  
  
"Soldiers, walking along the streets."  
  
She blinked and slowly crawled from under the bed, her back and knees popping loudly as she stood. "How many?"  
  
"Lots! Come look!"  
  
"Keep your voice down, dear. Just incase they decide to come up here again."  
  
The child immediately stopped looking so excited and hunched to the side. She walked to the window, a hand ruffling Gary's hair as she got near, and looked out. The scene was quite a different one from just a day ago. Hundreds, if not thousands of white robed soldiers lined the streets, being shouted at by some figurehead. Eimour couldn't make out the words, but by the looks on the soldier's faces, it was a very positive speech.  
  
After a little bit, the soldiers dispersed and a few went aside buildings while the rest marched on the streets, heading in the direction of the higher class district. Eimour, while very suspecting of the Yevonites, had never expected them to invade Luca of all places. Luca was about as neutral as cities came, being that the population was balanced, for and against the New Yevon faction.  
  
But what had Eimour really worried was whether or not this move by Nyka was going to go unpunished or not. She hadn't a clue if Yuna's camp knew, or if they were still in the dark. She figured the latter, seeing as Nyka had just barged in, unannounced. She could only worry what Luca's political leaders were doing.  
  
"Probably pissing their pants..." she thought aloud, not really meaning to.  
  
"What mommy?"  
  
"Nothing dear," she replied and tapped his nose. "And just because mommy said a bad word, doesn't mean you have that right, ok?"  
  
The child smiled, nodding. "I know, Mommy."  
  
She smiled and leaned down, kissing Gary's forehead. She returned her gaze to the streets and noticed soldiers camped out at certain spots, guessing that they were posted all throughout the city, guarding their newly acquired tract of land.  
  
She groaned aloud, shaking her head at the thought of being a prisoner in her own town. She wondered what odd rules were going to be set in now that Luca had a new ruler. More than likely, for the next few weeks...or the rest of their lives...life would be grueling.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston walked slowly along the beach path, shouldering his rucksack, the large wooden barracks' roofs appearing as he made his way over a dune. He saw a lot of the Crusaders just milling about, conversing and tossing blitzballs around. He looked for Ughol, but saw no sign of the oaf, and decided to enter the building.  
  
On his way in he got quite a few looks, some admiring, some incriminating. He walked up to a small table with a soldier behind it. He bent forward a little bit.  
  
"Is Gatta in? He's not at the Lodge."  
  
"Yeah, he's in back. Got an appointment." The soldier laughed at his joke, but Weston only stared, causing the smirk on the man's face to fade quickly. The soldier coughed and stood. "Please wait here."  
  
Weston nodded and stood, stuffing his hands into his pockets. A few moments later, the soldier came back in, nodded to Weston and then opened the door to the back office. Weston walked through the threshold and could see many maps scattered around, some swords in a stack, and what looked like, at least to Weston, to be ration satchels. Gatta popped up from behind a cornered off area in the back of the room and made eye contact with Weston.  
  
"Morning." Weston said.  
  
Gatta smirked. "It's mid-afternoon."  
  
"I know. But I usually consider afternoon morning, because I don't generally wake up early enough to say 'Morning'."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"You said you have something to show me."  
  
"Yes I do." And with that, Gatta set two L-shaped pieces of steel. "Go ahead, pick one up."  
  
Weston did so and noted that what it he was holding was a firearm, a very odd one. He studied its appearance. It was most certainly a handgun, because it had a slide and a slot for a magazine. But, the magazine slot looked like a straight shell-through load that was used for mounted machine guns. He brought it much closer, eye level, and recognized the magazine mechanism. It was much like the old M1-Garand load. A slot was inside to hold a metal strip. The magazine, Weston guessed, was much like the Garand's. Shells loaded on a strip of metal, a slot in the middle so the hammer could hit the primer and fire the bullet. The slide, he guessed, was like a Desert Eagle's. It was behind the chamber and was only there to release the emptied shell. The gun was steel and, as far as Weston could tell, had rubber grips colored yellow. The trigger was like any other; save it wasn't pulled into the grip, but pulled against it. It was like whoever had produced the gun mixed a USP's trigger with a 1911's frame. It wasn't very heavy, heavier than most of the handguns he had handled, for sure, but it wasn't cumbersome. He looked to Gatta and cocked a brow.  
  
"Who made this?" he asked.  
  
"Al-Bhed."  
  
"Ah hah."  
  
"They're into making machina for all sorts of purposes. Transportation, convenience at home, and, most of all, defense."  
  
"How does it load?"  
  
Gatta shrugged. "Picked it up in Luca, some souvenir shop. Didn't give me any bullets though..."  
  
"Separate purchase?"  
  
"Didn't have any. Said he stole 'em from a couple of marauders at the Blitz stadium."  
  
"Mmhmm. There a reason you wanted to show me useless weaponry?"  
  
"Actually, yeah, I have a good reason."  
  
"And what is that reason?" Weston asked, not sure of where this was going.  
  
"I was thinking, that maybe, just maybe, we could convince the Al- Bhed to loan us...say a few thousand of these to use in battle."  
  
"Think they'd want to do that?"  
  
"No. They're neutral, and want nothing to do that would jeopardize their race's safety."  
  
"Then how do you expect to get a few thousand of these?"  
  
"Know how to beg, Weston?"  
  
"Uh...no."  
  
"Start learning now and meet me at the airship in two hours."  
  
--------------------  
  
Nyka was in very good spirits, even as the day wore on. He looked out of the window and saw the sun shining down onto his beloved Bevelle.  
  
Now, while he knew certain people thought he was heartless, Nyka was quite in love. And he knew it. It was a love of influencing thousands of people. It was a love of looking down onto a city and knowing you affected every single aspect of it. It was the love of power that had concreted itself into his heart. And like the leaders of Yevon before him, that power would last forever. No matter how old Nyka got, he'd continue living, because the day he died, would be the day he was reborn immortal, forever to lead the minions of Yevon into battle against the heathen. But, he feared that soon there would be no heathen, seeing how his army had easily taken Luca.  
  
"Well," Nyka said to the empty room, hearing the echo of his voice coming from the stone walls, "there's still the Al-Bhed to take care of, and after that, -and- if push comes to shove, I'll just create a heathen to get rid of."  
  
With that, he smiled and stepped from the window. He picked up a logbook and started to record the day's good news into it. After a few paragraphs were written, he closed the book and sat down, thinking a moment.  
  
He recalled how his youngest cohort's wife had come to him the night of Luca's invasion. She was on the verge of tears, because, she claimed, Fagan seemed to not have full faith in him and the movement to drive out the heathen horde. Nyka grinned as he remembered holding the nubile young woman in his arms, whispering words of comfort into her ear. His grin widened as his thoughts continued, remembering how frightened the young girl was, and how easily she believed every word he said. He knew, then, that she had long been a believer of his, and had every bit of confidence in him that she did in seeing the sun come up every morning. He noted how easily it had been to manipulate her that night, making her obey each command, claiming that doing so would purify her path into the Farplane. He grin broadened even more as he focused on the image of the young girl, unbuttoning her blouse.  
  
The office door slammed shut and Nyka jumped up, wiping the grin off of his face and hunching forward a bit.  
  
"Y...yes?" he asked in a shaky voice, not seeing anyone around.  
  
The messenger from earlier walked forward, still with that silly grin on his face. "Lord, no activity from Yuna's camp. No word, nothing. And in this case, nothing is a good thing. We've set up barracks at the stadium and have posts all throughout the city; usually two to four man jobs, with rotation every six hours. Civilian casualty is high, sir. Official numbers are in from the collection of bodies that stared early morning. According to the final count, there are fourteen thousand, three hundred and sixty eight civilian deaths. That's counting men, women, children, occupations including politicians, innkeepers, merchants, and peasants."  
  
Nyka nodded, wishing each and every one of the fourteen thousand, three hundred and sixty eight souls a torturous and fiery eternity roaming Spira, for they were not getting into the Farplane. He smiled, and asked, "That leaves how many, estimated of course, civilians?"  
  
"Around twenty or so thousand sir."  
  
"Not a big loss."  
  
"Sir...it's still-"  
  
"It's nothing. The price they had to pay now or later. We put them out of their misery."  
  
The messenger nodded.  
  
Nyka changed the subject."Any news on the Al-Bhed operation?"  
  
"Sir, we've already received and processed the plans. It's essentially an attack, from what you've outlined, correct?"  
  
"It's only an attack if they think it is. But we're not going to go all that way, ask politely, and then leave empty handed. You know yourself, son, that the Al-Bhed aren't going to hand over anything to anyone. We're going to 'borrow' some of that technology and let some of our most prestigious soldiers utilize it."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And, tell me again, how did my army acquire an airship?"  
  
The messenger knew Nyka knew the answer, but to please the aging leader, he sighed and recited, "After being decimated by the heathen's missile attack, Nyka's Holy Army commandeered a vessel from the very city it would plan to and successfully control only a day later."  
  
"Correct. You may go now, son."  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
The messenger bowed and hurriedly left. Nyka sat back down and leaned back into the chair, returning to his thoughts of the night before.  
  
--------------------  
  
Yuna awoke, brow covered in sweat, tears in her eyes. She accounted the dream to the stress as of late, but couldn't get the images out of her vision.  
  
In her eyes, she saw not her bed, or her room, but rather saw a rain- soaked and cloaked figure, standing upon a hill, which she now saw was actually a dip in one of Luca's many roads. In this most recent dream, the white light had not appeared, and the figure took one step backed and entered a very familiar stance. From under the cloak, Fraternity's translucent blue blade gleamed against the rain, a mist rising from the sword. It was splotched in blood, which the rain was quickly wiping off. In one fell swoop, the figure raised the sword and brought it down against a figure she could not see from her vantage.  
  
And that had been where the vision had ended in a flash of white. She couldn't explain the dreams, but felt comforted, despite the violent nature of the dream. If it weren't for the sword, she thought, she would be worried. But, seeing Tidus' sword gave her that much more hope that somewhere, he was searching for her. Where that was, she didn't know, and particularly didn't care.  
  
Yuna crawled out of bed and slipped her shoes back on, her clothes slightly wrinkled from the afternoon nap. There was a knock on her door and she opened it up to see someone she particularly didn't want to see.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I've got news."  
  
"It's dangerous for you to be here, you know...I thought you were going to send word through a source?"  
  
"Today, I am that source. Why? That bastard's sent my source straight to Luca."  
  
"Why Luca?"  
  
"Luca's fallen. Fallen to Yevonite hands."  
  
Yuna held her hand to her mouth, half in shock, and half in an effort to keep herself on her feet.  
  
--------------------  
  
"So, we're going to the heart of Yuna's cousin's race?"  
  
"Cid, yes."  
  
"Cid."  
  
Gatta nodded.  
  
"And that girl I met long ago, Rikku, might be able to persuade him for at least a little bit of help."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Remind me again why I have to go."  
  
"I trust you."  
  
"And you don't trust Ughol?"  
  
"No. Didn't say that."  
  
"So why didn't you bring him along?"  
  
"Well, Ughol isn't very...'Diplomatic', I think, is the word. He's a great fighter, he's got a big heart, but," Gatta tapped his temple in demonstration, "up here, there's not much in the way of thinking ahead."  
  
"Ah hah. So, you take me because you think I might be able to tell you if you've been jipped or not."  
  
"More or less. And I sense you can beg with the best of them."  
  
Weston laughed and punched Gatta firmly in the upper arm. "Bastard."  
  
Gatta laughed as well, shrugging with a smug smile at the bastard comment.  
  
"So how long till we arrive?"  
  
"Don't know. Let me go ask our driver."  
  
Weston thought a moment and then grabbed Gatta's shoulder, pulling the smaller man back. "Shouldn't we have told Yuna first?"  
  
"Nah, it'll be ok. She was asleep anyway."  
  
"So you tried?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, if you tried..."  
  
"I tried."  
  
"Ok." And with that, Gatta left for the cockpit.  
  
Weston looked out of the window and saw the expansive ocean as a nice protective barrier against anything that would go after Besaid. The Yevonites didn't have a navy and really couldn't get to the island without an airship. He wondered, also, whether or not Nyka had gone stagnant. They hadn't heard anything from Yuna or her "source." And not hearing anything was a bad thing, especially during a war.  
  
Gatta tapped Weston's shoulder. "Be there in less than thirty minutes. Zoning out?"  
  
"Wha...yeah. Thirty minutes."  
  
Gatta laughed. "If you're worried about the Al-Bhed, they -shouldn't- fire on us. We're supporters of Yuna."  
  
"Oh, you're -so- assuring."  
  
And with that, the two men laughed.  
  
--------------------  
  
Fagan's day off was slowly growing to a close. And he was glad. While it was uneventful, the coldness that stuck to the air unnerved him. He hadn't spoken a word to Elaine all day, but she hadn't offered any conversation either. Something had seemed to have shaken her up, but he certainly wasn't going to ask about it.  
  
He sat, cross-legged, on the floor, reading through a book about the Al-Bhed, mainly just to refresh himself for Nyka's lesson. He dreaded it, but knew it was important to the old leader and wasn't about to spark any bad blood between them. He'd lose, no matter what, since the man was leading this little crusade, and Fagan himself being only an advisor. He had already lost the battle with his wife. She was hopelessly loyal to Nyka, even though she loved Fagan. He didn't doubt her love, but he did feel as if she'd side with Nyka over him any day.  
  
He growled, and put the book down, not able to concentrate. Recently, he'd had an epiphany: he didn't like Nyka. He didn't even want to be apart of this "Crusade." But, he had to be, or at least, seem loyal. Otherwise, Nyka would kill him.  
  
Fagan slowly stood and popped his back with a groan. It was nearly twilight, and his wife wasn't home yet. He knew she had to vent, get out her frustrations, and he was especially glad she didn't do it at home. But, the long trips to who knows where didn't have him very excited. As he began cooking a batch of noodles, the door opened, and in walked Elaine.  
  
He whispered a greeting, but she either failed to hear him, or failed to want to hear him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lay a couple of bags down on the bed and begin dressing down.  
  
"What're you cooking?" she asked, not a bit of emotion in her voice.  
  
He jumped a bit, and said in a meek voice, "Seasoned noodles..."  
  
"We had that a few nights ago."  
  
"I know, but I was craving it."  
  
"It'll do..." she said, her back to him, staring off at the wall.  
  
After an awkward moment, he asked, "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No," came her reply.  
  
Of course, he knew she was lying, but decided not to press it, being a bit scared of any type of confrontation. The one thing Fagan hated about himself was his pacifist nature. It had gotten him picked on, even at college. He supposed it had something to do with his stature. He wasn't very tall, and weighed less than most men his height or shorter. And when confronted, he usually drew back, not wanting to be in a conflict. But recent events had caused the meek councilman to begin to take a few chances, especially letting his doubts out, even if it was his wife. All along, he knew she'd see Nyka about it.  
  
He sighed and went back to the noodles. His thoughts went back to Elaine. He had met her in college. She was spunky, confrontational, and simply put, everything he was not. But it had worked. How he had worked up the nerve to ask her to visit the temple with him one day, he'd never know. But he was glad he did, even if things like this would happen. And they had happened before. She'd become stagnant, totally lethargic and apathetic, totally not herself. But it wouldn't take her long to get out of these fits.  
  
That little line of thinking brought a smile to the young man's face as he stirred the noodles. Time healed all wounds, he thought. Unless the wound festered, of course.  
  
--------------------  
  
Eimour made her way along a wide and heavily populated street, her sandals clacking against the stone tiles. She wrapped her cloak around herself a bit tighter as she spotted some of the white robed guards looking at her. One of them yelled out something about Nyka, and she nodded furiously, already having answered the same question three times on her trip. The night was muggy, but she was cold, chills running up her back. She felt a thousand eyes on her, and it didn't make her feel very safe, even if it was her own block.  
  
She saw a couple of soldiers fall in behind her and she hurried her steps, thanking whatever deity was left that her destination appeared to the left. She opened the door and ducked in, watching the soldiers pass the store's window.  
  
"Bastards, aren't they?"  
  
She jumped and turned, dropping her cloak.  
  
The elderly man behind the counter laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry to startle you, dear. What can I do for you this evening?"  
  
She smiled as her recognition of the old man caused her to walk forward, leaning over the counter as she had for years now.  
  
He laughed, "You've been doing that since you were seven. Don't think you'll grow out of it."  
  
She smiled and nodded. "Never."  
  
They both laughed at this and the moment of reminiscing caused her worry to fade, if only for a few seconds.  
  
"Looks like you've raised your prices," she commented, not wanting to sound cheap or worried.  
  
"Yeah. Since -they- moved in, they've put a stop to shipments in and out of the city. My supply is low. Have to make as much as I can before I'm out of stock."  
  
She nodded and cocked her mouth. "Well...just one loaf, and one bottle of juice, please."  
  
He nodded and went into the back. She sighed and pulled out a sack, counting out three hundred gil, which left her with only fifty, which wouldn't buy anything save a potion. When he returned, he had two large baskets in his hand. She counted three loaves of bread, some meat, a few seasonings, a few potions, about ten cans of various vegetables, and three large bottles of juice.  
  
Her immediate response was, "I can't afford all of this..."  
  
He laughed. "That's why I'm -giving- it to you. I know you have that son of yours back at your room. And this 'occupation' is putting a strain on everyone. You know they took over the stadium, right? So your job's gone. They've canceled the Blitz games, if you can believe that. So, this should last you a few weeks."  
  
She sighed, hating to accept charity, but took the baskets. He nodded to the money. "Pocket that. You'll need it later."  
  
She started to refuse, but he grabbed the money and shoved it back into the pouch hooked to her belt. He winked and said, "Off you go. Have a nice night."  
  
She smiled, uttered a few words of thanks, grabbed her cloak after setting the baskets down, and was on her way on within a few minutes.  
  
On the way back to her Inn, she didn't see many soldiers. This, of course, was a relief, but still left her curious. She trudged her way up the stairs, found her door, and entered through the room with a smile.  
  
Gary jumped up from reading and smiled. "Whatcha got, Mommy?"  
  
She smiled. "Yummy food. We can thank the local shop keeper for that."  
  
"Ooo, the nice old man?"  
  
She smiled and nodded, noting that, even in a time of despair, there was always a little bit of peace. It just had to find you.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston stepped out of the airship, eyes immediately going wide at the scene before him. Despite night having been fallen for an hour or so, Weston could see two large towers; a third currently being built. They were very tall, taller than most skyscrapers. Noises usually associated with construction zones filled the air and Weston could see sparks flying at many places on the third tower's frame. Men were yelling, women were yelling. And yelling over the noise was quite a feat. But he couldn't make out what the yells said, either because they were in another language, or too far away to be understood. Gatta laughed as he came up beside Weston.  
  
"Impressive, no?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's the Al-Bhed for you."  
  
"And these guys are -neutral-?!"  
  
"Not fair, is it?"  
  
"Not in the least."  
  
"Well, that's why we're here. Let's get down to business."  
  
Weston nodded and the two walked toward the center of the large structures.  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol sighed. "I'm sorry Yuna. They've gone to Home to see if they can take some weapons off of the Al-Bhed's hands."  
  
"Does Rikku know about this?"  
  
"Not that I know, no ma'am."  
  
She sighed, trying to control a tinge of anger. "Ok...I need...them here. I need them to help me."  
  
"Well, what's the matter? Maybe I can help. I'm in charge while they're gone."  
  
She winced a bit, but told him of Luca's fall.  
  
He literally jumped up from his seat after she finished.  
  
"That bastard!" he yelled.  
  
She drew back, not sure of the behemoth's control over his anger.  
  
"We've got to go to Luca."  
  
"But, what about Gatta?"  
  
"He'd do the same thing if I was gone."  
  
"But, shouldn't you wai-"  
  
"Ok, guys listen up. I need some volunteers. We're gonna take Luca back."  
  
A few men blinked.  
  
"Well, what you guys don't know is that bastard Nyka's taken over Luca. Let's go take it back, men!"  
  
A few cheers were heard and Ughol didn't have long to wait until a sizable force was assembled.  
  
"How are you going to get there?" Yuna asked.  
  
"A fast ship and a boatload of Chocobos."  
  
"How long will it take you to get there?"  
  
"I'm guessin' bout...six hours, tops."  
  
She sighed and nodded, already knowing where this was headed. She knew Ughol had made up his mind, and there wasn't much she could do about it. Even a leader could stand up to hundreds of angry soldiers.  
  
Within thirty minutes, Ughol and the four hundred or so men were on their way. Yuna looked to her shaky hands and tried not to cry, but found her eyes were willing. With a quiet sob, she made her way to her bedroom.  
  
--------------------  
  
A/N: Und ze plot thickens. Welp, hope you guys like this one. Not much to say about it, except thanks to my Cisco teach for letting me take the final and then sneak home a few hours early so I could finish this ^^;;  
  
--------------------  
  
FAQ: Yeah, after dozens and dozens of emails, a few questioning reviews, and odds and ends from friends, I've decided to include a FAQ with this chapter. Don't worry, no future spoilers for those of you who've read this far. And if ya think this is silly and pointless, just skip it ^^  
  
Q: Why is it called "Akin to Sin"?  
  
A: As you can tell, by now, this is a war-driven story. Every plot centers on the war. Now, war is devastating. And, personally, Sin really doesn't hold a candle to war. The war in this story is very destructive, but it's man-made, and that makes it just as bad or worse than [the game's] spiritual based destruction machine, ala Sin. Therefore, it's "Akin" or similar, to Sin and what Sin did.  
  
Q: Where the hell is Tidus?!?!?!?!  
  
A: This is the most frequent question I'm asked. For plot reasons, I can't go into it yet. All I can say is that he IS returning and will be a major character. I'm guessing he'll make his debut at about Chapter 16 or so. Could be sooner, depending on pacing issues etc.  
  
Q: How long with this fic be?  
  
A: Extremely long. Probably around 30 chapters or so, if everything goes according to my outline.  
  
Q: Where's Auron?  
  
A: Not in this one. Sorry all you Auron fans, just couldn't fit him in.  
  
Q: Where's Kihmari?  
  
A: He's not a key character, really. He'll make small appearances later in the fic.  
  
Q: Why a Delta Force soldier? or Why a US soldier? Or Couldn't you have made Weston a Crusader?  
  
A: Here's a history of Weston's character. He started out as a character in a story I've never published. In that story, he was a SEAL. And in that story, he was fourty-five. I just reverse-aged him, put him in the Delta's (because I had been playing the game Delta Force at the time), and then fleshed out a character diagram. The reason I wanted Weston to "fall" into Spira and not be a citizen of Spira is a simple one: there's more to write about. How Weston adjusts, how he compares things in his world to Spira's, how he acts, his slang, his religious beliefs. It's just totally different.  
  
Q: Is Sin coming back?  
  
A: No, Sin is dead, and so is Yu Yevon.  
  
Q: What's this Yttrium based...the thing about Yevon being some AI chip? China?  
  
A: I wanted a way to have Weston come to Spira. What better way then to say, waaaaaay into the past, Sin was actually man-made. I explain that Yu Yevon was really an artificial life form that produced a biological armor to protect itself. I just popped China as the creators because, let's face it, what other superpower is there that's not a greater threat, militarily speaking, than China?  
  
Q: Why New Yevon?  
  
A: Ever read the extended ending for the International version of FFX? No? Then read it to find out.  
  
Q: Nyka sounds a lot like Mika.  
  
A: What? I needed to have some allusion to the game's plot :P ^^;;;  
  
Q: Are Weston and Yuna getting together? or Do Weston and Yuna have a thing going?  
  
A: No. Absolutely not. I -cried- at the end of FFX because Tidus just floated through Yuna's arms. Yuna and Tidus WILL be reunited and major fluff will ensue!  
  
Q: You love to torture your characters, don't you?  
  
A: Angst and inner-turmoil rule! Translation: [Why, yes, yes I do! ^^]  
  
Q: Why didn't Weston have his M4? or Why didn't Weston have any reloads for his SOCOM?  
  
A: It's a matter of causing strain on the character. If he had tons of ammo, it'd be a bit one sided. It'd be like going back in time and giving on of the armies of the Civil War a crap load of AK's and say "Happy Shooting, fellas." I did it to be fair and not sound so damned far fetched. I mean, come on, I wanted SOMETHING to make him vulnerable ^^  
  
Q: When do you have the time to write all of this?  
  
A: Sometimes at school, but mostly at home. I stay up into the wee hours writing this stuff, with only raw coffee bean (which is good, mind you :P), some form of spring water or carbonated beverage, and either granola or nutragrain bars as my fuel. That's why there are so many dang typos. When I finish a story, I proofread thoroughly. So, if you see a few and it bugs ya, sorry, but I'm not getting around to that until this is done. Then you'll have a nice, clean, and easily readable fic.  
  
Q: What's this heathen stuff?  
  
A: Ah, another allusion. In The Idylls of the King by Alfred Lord Tennyson, King Arthur is on a crusade to rid the land of a certain race. He calls his enemy (The pagan Anglo-Saxons) the "Heathen Horde" because they're not Christian. Nyka does this as well, because, well, he's almost in the same situation, expect he's no King Arthur ^^  
  
Q: You sure this should be PG-13?  
  
A: Positive. Nothing in this fic has gone above what any of the other PG-13 fics I've read have. Trust me, I'm keeping this very tame, despite my violent nature ^^;;  
  
Q: You've got no life, have you?  
  
A: I do. It just takes a back seat to pleasing you guys ^^ 


	13. Chapter 13: Deals and Sacrifices

Chapter 13: Deals and Sacrifices  
  
PreA/N: Get those translators ready! I used the English-Al Bhed translator with phonetics(http://www.pixelscapes.com/twoflower/albhed.html) to write my Al Bhed language. I'm lazy and dun wanna learn it by heart. I'm not -that- hardcore :P ^^;;; Oh, and watch out for some heavy violence in this chapter (talking to you, Shad ^.~) ~ No One  
  
--------------------  
  
"They never fail who die in a great cause." - Lord Byron  
  
"Ultimately, we're all dead men. Sadly we cannot chose how. But, we can decide how we meet that end in order that we are remembered as men." - Unknown.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Fru kuac drana?"  
  
Weston blinked at the blond haired man, not understanding a word the young man had said. But, the five-foot six or so tall man had a gun; thus, one would normally want to know what he was saying.  
  
Weston turned to Gatta, raising a brow.  
  
"That's Al-Bhed language. Most of them don't speak Spiran."  
  
"You mean English."  
  
Gatta's brow rose and Weston left it at that. Gatta then turned to the young man and said slowly, as if he was calculating every word as he spoke, "Fa yna vneahtc uv Myto Rikku."  
  
The armed man didn't seem to buy it at first, but then shrugged his shoulders. "Cra'c eh dra drent dufan, fedr Cid."  
  
Gatta nodded and turned to Weston. "See that tower, over there?"  
  
"Oh, the big one with all the sparks flying from it. Yeah, it's kinda hard to miss."  
  
"Lead the way, asshole."  
  
The two men laughed and headed in the tower's direction, leaving the young man to wonder what the joke was.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Ynah'd druca vneahtc uv ouinc, tyikrdan?"  
  
"Oac, pid fro drao yna rana, E tu hud ghuf."  
  
"Drao yna rana vun cibbund yht E ghuf ed."  
  
"E tuh'd ihtancdyht fro fa lyh'd ramb dras...E sayh, fa tu ceta fedr Yuna tuh'd fa?"  
  
"Dryd ec hud dra buehd. Dra buehd rana ec uin baubma'c cyvado. E sicd ahcina dra cyvado uv uin baubma vencd. E lyh'd zicd ku vekrd cusa fyn. Ed'c ran bnupmas vun huf. Drana'c hu naycuh vun uin baubma du kad ehjumjat."  
  
"Pid vydran..."  
  
"Excuse us..." Gatta said as he stepped into a large metallic room. His voice echoed off of the steel walls.  
  
Weston stepped in after him and the door slid closed. He smirked and remarked to no one in particular, "It's like Star-Trek."  
  
He noticed Rikku and the older man stare at him with wondering eyes. In return he grinned and shrugged. Gatta shot him a glance and Weston understood the meaning; "Shut it."  
  
The older, bald man stood from his crouched position. His face was stern and one could tell he had not aged easily. His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, but we can't help ya."  
  
"Even after all that Yuna did for your people, Cid?"  
  
"If I got into this with Yuna, my people would be hurt. I can't let that happen."  
  
"We're only asking for supplies. My men have swords, Nyka's army has machina."  
  
"I can't help ya, Gatta."  
  
Rikku groaned and the four stood in silence in the small office room at the base of the tower. A few minutes into the awkward silence, Weston groaned and pushed himself past Gatta. He reached into his fatigues' hip pockets and pulled the two Al Bhed sidearms out, laying them on the metal desk in front of Cid and Rikku with an audible clunk.  
  
"I need ammo for these."  
  
Cid leaned forward. "I'm not going to just -give- you anything."  
  
"Then I'll pay for it."  
  
Gatta stepped up. "No, Weston. Don't pay them. It wouldn't be-"  
  
"I'll do whatever I goddamned want with my money."  
  
"How much do ya have?" asked Cid.  
  
"I have about sixty in my pocket now."  
  
"That'll get ya thirty clips of ten."  
  
"So two Gil a clip?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"How much for, say, another sidearm?"  
  
"Thirty Gil, unless you want the quick-fire model. That's fifty Gil."  
  
Weston hmmed, then pointed to the weapons lying on the table. "What are these?"  
  
"Quick-firing models. Just pull the trigger and boom, whole lotta lead heading wherever you aim it. But, it does have a bit of a kick if ya just hold the damn trigger."  
  
"Yeah. Burst fire would be more appropriate for an automatic."  
  
"So, ya buying the ammo?"  
  
"Yeah," and with that, Weston set a jingling pouch from his pocket onto the table. Cid nodded and bent down, opening a small rectangular box. From it he pulled a large handful of "clips" and set them onto the table for counting. The "clips" were really just a strip of metal with a notch to hold the bullets in. The bullets, to Weston, looked much like the full- metal jacket shells he used with his SOCOM. The primer was triangular, however, and he noticed after picking a clip up that the bullets were remarkably lighter.  
  
Cid seemed to notice Weston studying the bullets. "Something wrong?"  
  
"These bullets are a lot lighter that what I'm used to. Certainly lighter than the hulky ones used by the Yevonites."  
  
"Ah, that's 'cause we use no powder with these guns!"  
  
"And how do you accomplish that?"  
  
"It's complicated, really."  
  
"I've got time."  
  
Gatta rolled his eyes and looked to Rikku, who was obviously bored.  
  
Cid grinned and said smugly, as if proud of the achievement, "This is our most recent development. The primer is a metal alloy that's super- conductive. When our weapon's charged hammer hits it, it creates an electromagnetic pulse, or "shock." That shock in turn creates a temporary magnetic field between the sides of the barrel's conductive housing, ya know, the piece of metal on the front that don't move. The bullet itself is then pulled from the casin and travels along the concentrated field gaining acceleration all the while. It hits the air goin' real fast. It's not an instant hit, but damn if it ain't one that hits in the blink of an eye.  
  
"The bullet is notched, and fans out after it makes contact with flesh or whatever you're aiming at, cept paper. That way, the bullet doesn't keep going, but damn, whatever you hit goes flying if it aint screwed to something. Leaves a big hole, too. The spent case is ejected when the electromagnetic field reverses and then disappears, making the slide move, ejecting the bullet. This also pulls the clip down, givin' ya another bullet ready to fire."  
  
Weston blinked, looking for the notches in the bullet's lead. "So...it's a rail gun?"  
  
"Electro-magnetic projectile accelerator."  
  
"But doesn't that need some sort of power supply?"  
  
"You noticed, I hope, that the guns were warm when ya pulled them from your pockets."  
  
"They'd been in there awhile."  
  
"Well, we've been yakking for a while, pick one up."  
  
Weston did so and noticed that the gun had not lost its warmth against the cold table.  
  
Cid laughed.  
  
Weston smirked. "It's battery operated."  
  
"Sorta. The source is a stone just below the hammer. It's really tiny. The stone has some sort of power in it that keeps the gun running. I've had mine for months and it hasn't stopped workin' yet."  
  
"So no clue as to how the stone keeps all of its power?"  
  
"Not a clue. But, hey, it works, right?"  
  
"I'll find that out for myself soon. Any sort of muzzle flash?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yeah. It's just from the pulse creating the magnetic field, not the firing of the bullet itself. But everything happens so fast, it seems like one action."  
  
"Well, now they'll know where I am."  
  
"Not if they're dead first!" shouted Rikku, catching Weston off guard.  
  
They all laughed and Cid finished counting out the clips. He bent down and got a small satchel, placing the clips into it. He handed it to Weston, smiled, and said, "Pleasure doing business with ya."  
  
Weston turned back to Gatta, holding the satchel up. "See? Money talks. How much do the Crusaders have to play with?"  
  
"Weston, I don't think so. That money is for the soldiers' salaries."  
  
"It's called 'budgeting'. It's a fairly chic` concept. You take a certain amount and set it aside for uniforms, or rations, or salaries. You take another set amount and use it for weaponry. You spread the money out instead of having some big stockpile and, therefore, you use it more wisely. And if we can buy ourselves a weapon contract with the Al Bhed, why refuse to give your men adequate protection?"  
  
Gatta thought this over a minute, not wanting to go along with it. It was absurd. "Contracting" an entire race for weapon production. But, if it could be done, it'd give them a fighting chance against the Yevonites, who easily outnumbered and outgunned the Crusader forces.  
  
Gatta looked to Cid, who also seemed to be in an inner-conflict. Rikku watched her father anxiously, desperately wanting to help Yuna out in any form possible. Finally Cid said, "It can be done, but I'll need adequate payment. I've got a Home to rebuild and a people to protect. You won't be getting our best stuff. These sidearms are the line. Nothing better. No regular or quick-shot rifles, no explosives, and no mechanoids."  
  
Weston's eyes widened. "Mechs?"  
  
Rikku smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I pilot them sometimes."  
  
Weston blinked. "Combat mechs?"  
  
Rikku laughed. "What else?"  
  
Cid cleared his throat. "Only sidearms."  
  
Gatta sighed. "So, how much are we looking at?"  
  
Cid hmmed, pressing a finger to his chin a moment. "That depends."  
  
Weston nodded. "How much for ten thousand pisto- 'sidearms' and ten clips per weapon?"  
  
Cid thought a moment, doing the math. After a moment, he said lowly. "That'd run ya about two hundred thousand Gil."  
  
Gatta blinked. "Two...two...two hundred thousand Gil?! That's a million potions and then some."  
  
Cid's brow furrowed. "The materials, ammo, and labor are included. Not to mention, you'll be taking weaponry from my own military. And, if I were to charge you full price, it'd be half a million Gil and more. Five hundred and twenty thousand, to be correct."  
  
Gatta growled and looked to Weston. "That's only fifty or so thousand short of emptying the Crusaders' entire reserve."  
  
Weston grinned. "Siphon out the remaining fifty."  
  
Gatta's face turned rather red. "Weston, do you know how hard it is to order around a soldier who cannot bring bread to his table?"  
  
"This is war, Gatta, not peace time. The soldier doesn't have time to go home to his table. He lives off of what the military provides him, and I'm not referring to money."  
  
"This isn't your precious US Army, Weston. Goodness knows if we had the resources you claim your military has, we'd storm Bevelle right now and personally drag Nyka through the streets. But this isn't a tight body of patriotic men. If you talk to half of the men in the barracks, you'll know what I mean."  
  
Weston smirked and poked Gatta's small chest. "Gatta, why -did- the Crusaders' fall behind Yuna? Because Nyka caused their unemployment across most of Spira. You yourself know how hard it is to fit forty thousand men onto one small island. But your men complied, because they have a general dislike for that bastard in Bevelle. If -you- did your job as a leader, they'd be rolling in the rafters, ready to get revenge for the events that've passed."  
  
"I'm not going to get my men in some homicidal rage, Weston. Ever tried to command a man whose soul agenda is to kill some guy that rubbed him the wrong way? Everything must have its reason, Weston. And to take their salaries away? What reason do we have other than putting away the swords they grew up and trained with and replacing them with some Al Bhed weapon? That's not a boost of morale."  
  
"But it's something that has to be done, otherwise, your swordsmen are sitting ducks for Nyka's rifles. Think of the future. Think of ending this conflict rather than the personal well-being of every single man under your command. They'll do their job, as long as there's a job to do."  
  
Gatta sighed and looked to Weston, and then to Cid. "Can I at least pay you in installments?"  
  
"Yeah. That'd be a lot to bring in one trip, anyway."  
  
Gatta smiled a bitter smile.  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol growled as he looked to the rising moon. "If only we had known sooner..."  
  
"Something wrong, sir," one of the men closest to him asked.  
  
"We'll be there by early morning light. I wanted to make a night attack."  
  
"Well, sir, maybe it's better we attack at dawn anyway. They'll just be waking up and not fully capable of a counter move."  
  
"True...but under darkness we'd have even more of an advantage."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
Ughol turned from the soldier and looked through his pair of binoculars. Land was in sight, but it wasn't too close by. The waiting process had only begun.  
  
--------------------  
  
Fagan turned over in the bed, the covers sliding off of him as Elaine did the same. This was the coldest she had ever been to him and it was starting to fill his mind with worry. He sighed and turned again, brushing her back with the back of his hand. She seemed to shudder and, at least it seemed to him, whimpered, before sliding forward, away from his hand. He sighed sadly and got out of bed, obviously not prepared to sleep in such a cold situation.  
  
He walked along the far wall, tracing his fingers along the odd shaped staff that he carried to the temple everyday. Nyka had given it to him as a gift for becoming a council member at such a young age. He gripped it and stared into the blue crystal in the center. The crystal always had this warmth and glow to it that Fagan had never seemed to be able to explain. Nyka had said it was some holy relic, but that was probably just the old man's propaganda.  
  
Fagan huffed, letting his breath hit the table's surface as he sat down. He had to admit that his faith was wavering, despite dreading the realization of it. And to be a New Yevon councilman with faltering faith was not a healthy position to be in, especially during any sort of conflict.  
  
With a growl he stood up and looked to his hanging coat. He grabbed it and wrapped it around his robed body. Quietly, he stepped out into the night air, clutching the coat tight around him. He silently shut the door behind him and began his walk along the sidewalk.  
  
The time was only a little after midnight and Fagan could tell it without even looking at a clock. The ruffians were out in full swing. Mostly comprised Yevonite fundamentalist young men and women from the Youth Alliance, Bevelle's night crowd was a tad rowdy. But Fagan could tell he was safe, for though he felt eyes on him, his prestige as a councilman would deter any confrontation. He continued his walk and turned onto an opposite street, walking along one of the many market streets that littered Bevelle's neighborhoods. It was closed, of course, save a couple of item shops, but even at night, the structure that housed the stores and lots was impressive. It was stone with sweeping arches and steeples, reminding Fagan of the temple. As a matter of fact, most or all of Bevelle's architecture was based off of the temple. He could only imagine what the city looked like from the air.  
  
He rounded another street and passed a couple of the Youth Alliance miscreants. What Fagan had never understood was why Nyka had never done anything about Bevelle's night life. He thought it had to do with the unbreakable loyalty the young men and women of the group showed to Nyka. "Or," Fagan remarked to himself, "it could be their impressionable nature..."  
  
"You say something?" A young boy of about fifteen looked at Fagan. The boy was taller than Fagan, but had the same lanky quality that Fagan hated most about himself.  
  
"No," said Fagan timidly. The young boy shrugged and walked on, while Fagan hunched his shoulders forward. The chill that was running up his back wasn't from the wind, but from awaited him at home. He rounded another corner and could see his building in the distance, making another chill run through him. The building's medieval architecture didn't help reassure him either. The cold aura the building gave off was like that of the aura surrounding his wife. She was cold and kept her back to him, no matter how hard he pressed her. He couldn't quite figure out what he had particularly done, save tell her of his worry over Nyka's "Crusade." Of course, she was a die-hard Yevonite, always making up some excuse to dismiss the events of two years passed. She claimed Yuna to be a storyteller. But, as Fagan had pointed out, the proof enough was that Yuna defeated Sin and lived. Yunalesca was gone as well, offering further proof that, indeed, Yevon was gone.  
  
He growled, knowing that all his education was for naught, for he was worshiping a 'god' that had truly disappeared. But, his faith was also concreted because, in fact, Yevon -was- real. But what Yevon really was, be it man or beast, he didn't know. And would never know, in fact. He hated his questioning nature, especially now, when New Yevon needed him to be strong. But it's hard to go along with something that feels so inhumane. The 'event' in Kilika had disgusted Fagan to no end, but not because of the methods the Crusaders used to defeat Nyka's soldiers, but because of all the loss of innocent life.  
  
With a sigh, he finally stopped in front of his building, not wanting to open the door. Finally, after some indecision, he entered and headed up the stairs. He slowly made it to his dwelling and quietly opened the door.  
  
Not surprisingly, his wife was fast asleep, either oblivious to his night walk or she didn't much care. Either way, he still wasn't going to enter that cold bed. After fixing himself a cup of tea, he fell heavily into the cushiony chair in the den/study and didn't even drink from the cup. Instead, he laid it upon the stand next to the chair and quickly fell asleep.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Think Yuna'll go for this?"  
  
Gatta shrugged and stopped, pulling Weston to the side. "I don't know. I hope not."  
  
"And why's that? So your men can get slaughtered?"  
  
"No, so we don't have to include the Al Bhed in this. It's not their fight."  
  
"Last time I took count, Cid hated Yevon and isn't that reason enough to join in the fight?"  
  
"This isn't some childish brawl, it's a war, Weston. A war where millions of people's lives are at stake. To include even more in that count would be ridiculous. I just fear that this little "deal" is going to get them involved somehow."  
  
Weston sighed. "It's just an arms deal. Nothing big."  
  
"Maybe not where you come from, but I know in Nyka's mind it's 'blasphemy'."  
  
Gatta sighed and leaned against a large metal crate.  
  
Weston stood before him, tilting his head. "So, now that's over, we can go back, right?"  
  
"I suppose. But we still have to think of the consequences and a way to break the news to Yuna...  
  
"Uh, Gatta..."  
  
"And then we'll have to get transport material for the Gil..."  
  
"Gatta."  
  
"And after that-"  
  
"Gatta!"  
  
"What!?"  
  
"That's not our airship, is it?"  
  
Gatta looked up and in the direction Weston's fingertip. "Probably one of the Al Bhed's supply vehicles."  
  
"Then why is it getting ready to fire its missiles?"  
  
Gatta squinted in time to see a burst of fire from one of the sides of the airship.  
  
--------------------  
  
"We're getting there a little early, sir."  
  
Ughol laughed, bobbing up and down on the back of his Chocobo. His broadsword was clanging against his back, where it was loosely strapped. "Looks that way don't it?"  
  
A sergeant nodded and dropped off pace a bit as the lunar-lighted Blitzball sphere came into view.  
  
Ughol grinned, pleased with himself. He had made it to Luca in record time, and to exploit his good fortune, he'd siege it just as quickly. He'd show the Yevonites little mercy, for they hadn't shown much themselves.  
  
He quickly surmised the "plan" he had formulated on the boat ride. The soldiers would attack in one large volley, for Ughol expected the 'idiot' Yevonites to bunch up in one particular area.  
  
He grinned once more, gaining even more confidence. He yelled to his riding men, "When we take Luca back, free drinks for you all!"  
  
The men cheered and rode even harder.  
  
--------------------  
  
It wasn't the explosion that made Weston jump, but the creaking sound of metal that he had heard years ago in a September Eleventh documentary; that same sound that could be taken for someone taking a nail to a chalkboard, but magnified millions of decibels. Had his chest not already been pressed into the sandy ground, he would've it so after the horrendous sound that the top of one of the complete towers made as it hit the ground. The shockwave that traveled the earth also jarred his nerves. A cloud of dust and small metal debris funneled outwards from the impact zone and covered the entire structure, which was some feat, seeing as the structure was the size of a metropolis.  
  
Furiously wiping at his eyes and trying to snort out the granules of sand sticking to his nose hairs, he stood. He opened his tearing eyes but only saw in a fuzzy 'v' shape due to the sand still stuck to his eye. And, since the air was thick with a yellowish fog, seeing wasn't going to do him much good anyway.  
  
"Gatta!" he called, coughing afterwards. No answer came. He called twice more, and then began to walk forward. With a dense thud, his booted feet hit something thick and he almost tripped. Luckily he found his feet, but then bent down only to discover the toe of his boot stuck into the torn torso of a limbless and headless body. With a yelp he jumped backwards and turned, half-sprinting in the opposite direction. He bumped into something and fell over, trying to squint in the dust fog. All he could make out was a figure. The figure bent a bit and Weston could feel someone grabbing him by the arm. The next thing he knew, he was in a large wooden crate, where the fog had not penetrated.  
  
"Hold your eyes open!" he heard a female voice yell at him. He didn't think to question the command and did so. A moment later, a cool liquid poured over his eyes and in a few moments, his vision was returning.  
  
"We Al Bhed wear goggles for a reason, ya know."  
  
He instantly recognized the bubbly little voice as Rikku's. "Where's Gatta?"  
  
"With dad in the office. I was sent to get you. We don't know what happened...probably a collapse..."  
  
"Missiles aren't the same thing as collapses, last time I checked."  
  
"Missile?!" she said, handing him a pair of goggles.  
  
Although his vision was still a little blurry, he quickly put the goggles over his eyes. The goggles seemed to clear his vision even more and he noticed tinting used to keep the sun out as well. It was then that he got a good look at her. He could scarcely recognize her with the goggles and dust mask, which she was offering another one just like it to him as he studied her. She had he blond hair up in a pinned tail, as she always did. This lead him to wonder what it looked like down, but then, she started to tilt her head, wondering why he wasn't taking the mask. He finally took it and placed it over his nose and mouth.  
  
"It won't keep the smell out, but it'll help with the dust," she said, still tilting her head toward him. "But, what's this of a missile?"  
  
"An airship fired a missile at the tower. I saw it happen. Didn't Gatta tell you?"  
  
She shook her head. "When the big shock happened, he was thrown and got a crap load of sand down his throat. He couldn't talk and barely breathe. Dad had to act fast."  
  
"Well...that's what happened, and then the top of that tower just fell..."  
  
"I gathered that much."  
  
He stuck his tongue out and phhbted through the mask, only littering his own lips with the spittle. He gahed and slipped a hand under the mask to wipe his mouth, listening to her muffled laughs as he did so.  
  
Finally he walked to the end of the crate, or so he assumed and tried to open it.  
  
She laughed a few more times and pressed a button on one of the crate's inner sides. The end of the crate opened right in front of him. He looked back to her, shook his head, and then leapt out into the fog, leaving her wailing about waiting up for her.  
  
--------------------  
  
Gatta sat there, literally filling the bucket with a sand littered water/bile mixture, not liking the scratchy granules as they slowly made their way up. After what seemed like forever, he could swallow the water with ease, and his voice had returned, albeit raspy.  
  
"Where's Weston?"  
  
Cid hmmed. "Sent Rikku out to find him, and find out what happened to that tower...that's five months work down the damned drain. It -better- be a collapse."  
  
"Sorry to," Gatta managed before a cough, "be the bearer of bad news, but it was a missile...from an airship."  
  
"A missile?! Who the hell's stupid enough to attack -us-?!"  
  
Gatta shrugged but had an idea who the culprit was.  
  
"I gotta get out there."  
  
"Yeah, and I want to find Weston."  
  
"Well, get off your ass and let's go. Here's a pair of goggles and a mask."  
  
Gatta shot up, took the items, put them on, and followed Cid outside and into the fog.  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol hmmed, wondering why the streets were so dead in Luca. They had made their way without much sound. They had left the Chocobos a few hundred yards back, walking the rest of the way. The soldiers were all expecting a large group of fortified troops they could ambush in close-quarters battle, thus negating the enemy's rifles. But, while they walked along, sheaths in hand to reduce noise, they felt awkward at the eerie silence that had befallen this once great and boisterous town.  
  
Ughol stopped, causing the rest to stop as he tried to hear any signs of life. He figured that Luca never slept, unless the occupation had crushed the town's economy, which he didn't really think on too long. He slowly moved ahead until he saw a single guard post, with two guards. The men had rifles, but their backs were to the large mass of Crusader shoulders. The entire body stopped, as if one and crouched slightly, silently readying their swords. Ughol pointed to two men to his left and then to the guards. The men nodded and slinked toward the guards, swords ready to kill.  
  
It was when one of the slinking Crusader's back erupted, releasing a slew of bone and blood, sending the men back a few feet that Ughol began to worry. When the other man dropped with a hole in his back, Ughol began to panic. It was only when the bullets started to whiz by his head that he started doing something about it.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Sir! The group has been spotted and fired upon. Decoy worked, as you planned, sir."  
  
"Good. Now, I'd like you to annihilate them. Teach those damn Crusaders that Luca is Nyka's for now own."  
  
"It's a large force, about four hundred."  
  
"I know that. I was the one who spotted their damned Chocobos from the tower observation point."  
  
"Right, sir."  
  
"Their damned fools, trying to siege us. With those numbers they couldn't make it far. Real stealthy about it too."  
  
"Sir, it's a good thing we foiled their plot. They'll pay dearly."  
  
"Yes, and make sure you leave enough for Yuna to get word."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
--------------------  
  
Ughol screamed at the top of his lungs, trying to get some order in the quickly scattering troops. Some ran down the opposite street, others ducked into buildings, only to fall dead, their last sight a raging group of white robed men with rifles. Shots were blazing from everywhere. Entire buildings were illuminated from inside by the muzzle flashes. Volley after volley tore into the group of clumped soldiers.  
  
With a grunt Ughol stormed a nearby inn and immediately dug his sword into flesh. He grabbed the dropped rifle and looked at it, not knowing how to use the machina. Instead, he threw it into a charging Yevonite while another fired from across the inn's lobby. Ughol dodged the fire and ducked behind a couch, while the angered solider fired into it, the sturdy wood furniture keeping the behemoth safe. When Ughol heard the soldier's grunt upon having to reload, he sprang up, and despite his size, had relieved the man of a hand in a matter of seconds. He left the soldier screaming and gripping the bloody and tattered remnants of his wrist.  
  
Ughol cleared the office and then the desk area before making his way up to the rooms. The inn only had one floor, so not much to clear, thankfully. He didn't particularly know as to why he was doing this, but something was driving him and Ughol wasn't a man to deny his instincts. At the top of the stairs, Ughol plunged his broadsword into a soldier's stomach and twisted while pulling upwards, leaving the soldier to fall down the stairs, his open gut spilling out its contents on the way. Ughol's blade then slashed across the throat of another soldier in the hallway, the man's guttural scream and subsequent gargling causing Ughol to dip into a room, slashing a sitting soldier across the face and then stabbing through the man's chest as he hit the floor.  
  
Ughol left the room, hopped over the still convulsing soldier, and then slammed into another dispatching two more Yevonites. He left that room and ran into another, killing one man and slicing into another's temple. Ughol left the room not knowing if the head-wound was fatal or not, and not caring to go back to check, he jumped into the second to last room in the inn. It was empty and he jumped out and into the last room, just to see a Yevonite standing there, obviously ready to fire. As the man fired, Ughol dropped to the floor and side-tossed his sword into the man's knee. The sword glanced off but cut enough into the soldier's knee to drop him. However, the soldier then fired directly at Ughol while on the ground. Ughol growled as he felt the bullet sink deep into his thick calf muscle. He tried to stand but failed, the pain in his leg too strong even for him to ignore. The bullet was large and hefty, and was hot as fire. Grunting, the two men crawled towards each other, the soldier now sans-rifle.  
  
The soldier managed to get his medium-sized hands around Ughol's thick neck, but was too weak to choke such a large man. Ughol grunted and gripped at the sides of the soldier's head, trying to squeeze the man into submission.  
  
With a grunt and an exhaled breath, Ughol continued to squeeze, knowing the soldier had to give somehow, but the smaller man kept squeezing Ughol's neck, trying to cut off the larger man's air supply.  
  
Obviously tired of the squeezing, the Yevonite tilted his head, but soon learned that to be his final mistake, for under the weight of Ughol's squeezing, his head kept turning, and his top two vertebrae dislodged from the spinal column and the brainstem, instantly killing him. Ughol saw the soldier's eyes quickly blink into lifelessness and he sighed heavily, throwing the smaller man's body off of his own. With a wince he leveled up to his knees and crawled to a nearby window, looking out of it. He could see the little courtyard where his 'formidable force' now lay, broken, most of them lying in pools of their own blood upon the stonework streets. Some men were screaming in pain and others were on their knees, hands in the air, some of them were sobbing while others were trying to keep their dignity.  
  
Ughol closed his eyes, releasing a few tears of pain, but not the pain in his leg, but the pain of failure. The reason he had charged ahead like this was selfish. He wanted to be like Gatta, but now he had affirmed that he didn't have the same skills Gatta did. And this realization only made his tears flow even faster. He had failed his fellow men, had failed Gatta, and worst of all, had failed Yuna and all that supported the Crusaders. He had dealt the cause a heavy blow in his blunder, and he personally couldn't imagine having to face up to it.  
  
He smiled when he heard the rushed footsteps. That smile got even wider as the door he had left ajar in the jamb burst open. He laughed as he heard multiple guns cock and didn't even feel the bullets tear through his chest, breaking ribs and severing the spongy flesh of his lungs. He tried to laugh again, but the blood flowing up and into his mouth prevented that, and bubbled out, flowing down his massive jaw. The he looked down at the exit wounds in his chest and counted five holes. He smirked, thinking of hole-filled cheese.  
  
He leaned forward onto the window seal and looked out, mentally apologizing to the dead soldiers below. A shot rang out and Ughol was dead before the remnants of his forehead slammed into the glass, a single tear rolling down his cheek.  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston walked along the sandy ground, not able to seem much through the fog until he came right up on it. He was constantly dodging torn pieces of metal or humans. The more he saw, the more angered he became. Rikku had opted not to continue once she found a friend's lifeless corpse. Weston still moved forward, determined to find out whatever he could. The air smelled foul, a mixture of melting plastic, hot metal, and burnt flesh and hair. It was no telling how many had been on and in the top of that tower.  
  
Finally, he came upon what he knew was the part of the tower that had fell. It was a major obstacle in his path, but he'd have to get around it to make it to the tower, to hopefully find survivors.  
  
The tower came into view and Weston sprinted towards it, jumping what he had to, dodging what he could. As far as he could tell, only the part where the tower had been severed was ablaze, and the tower was so thick and tall, that blaze wasn't very big in comparison.  
  
When he finally made it to the foot of the tower, what he saw wasn't comforting. Aimed directly at him was an entire company of Nyka's army, waiting for the dust to clear. The airship that had fired the missile was behind them and troops were still filing out, some with large crates. What they needed with them was beyond Weston, but he didn't have time to find out. He bolted back from where he came, praying that he didn't get lost due to the dust in the air.  
  
--------------------  
  
Gatta yelled for Cid but couldn't see nor hear much for the fog. And if any reply came, it'd be muffled due to the masks. He sighed and stopped, looking around in all directions. Then, he heard a yell and ran in its direction, yelling back as loud as he could.  
  
Rikku came into view and yelled, "Where's my father?"  
  
"I lost him!"  
  
"You...ergh!"  
  
Gatta rolled his eyes and pointed for her to follow him. She shook her head and motioned for him to follow her instead. "You're the one losing people, Gatta."  
  
Gatta groaned and nodded, following her as she ran in the same direction he had planned to go. She was fast, but he was able to keep up, surprisingly. The bodies littering the ground weren't helping her pace either, but Gatta immediately told himself that was the worst reason to be thankful he'd ever cooked up. Suddenly, she stopped, and when he came up beside her, he saw why. In front of them was the meat of the piece of tower that had been severed. And standing a few feet away was Cid, shocked at the sight in front of him.  
  
Gatta walked up to a side of the large and twisted hunk of metal. It was a story and a half high and very wide. It'd take awhile for them to go around it.  
  
Slowly, Rikku began walking along the debris' left side. Gatta saw something rounding the corner and told Rikku to watch out, but to no avail. The two collided and Gatta ran forward, seeing that the figure was Weston.  
  
Weston got up, helped Rikku up and then yelled breathlessly, "Yevonites at the base of the tower. Lots of them."  
  
Rikku looked to Cid and he nodded, and she ran off quickly in a direction. Cid looked to the two bewildered men and said, "She's going for a mech. Meanwhile, you can come with me to rally some troops. No Yevon bastards are going to invade -my- Home and live to tell the tale!"  
  
Gatta and Weston nodded and followed the older man in a foggy and unknown direction.  
  
--------------------  
  
A lone private wept, his knees against the stone floor of the bloodstained courtyard. A line of Yevonite soldiers was approaching him while others were silencing the screaming wounded that littered the ground nearby. The private could smell his own urine mixed in with the blood that seeped into the cloth of his trousers. His sword lay at his side, unusable at this, he proposed, the final moment.  
  
At last the screams had stopped and the private closed his eyes, releasing a wave of tears down his cheeks, the droplets hitting his thighs. When he opened them again, a rifle barrel was in his face, which made him shake madly. He closed his eyes tight and winced, waiting for the bullet to tear through his brain. The rifle clicked and the soldier felt his bowels release, soiling his already stained trousers. He opened his eyes and saw the men leaving, their backs to him.  
  
Distraught, the private got up and ran at full speed, stepping over and on bodies, towards the way the group had come, towards the outskirts of Luca. His mission had gone from save Luca to save himself.  
  
--------------------  
  
Cid, Weston, and Gatta, and the three hundred or so men behind them ran in full speed toward the tower's base, still with no word from Rikku. Cid's communication device was laden with static, due to the heavy dust in the air. But, he knew that the air thinned out near the tower itself and hoped he could contact her there. Then again, he'd probably be too busy firing his rifle to pay attention to the small device. Gatta had the same type of rifle, one of the newer Al Bhed quick-shot accelerators. Weston had opted for the quick-shot sidearms, mainly for gusto, thought Cid. But Weston had told him he was better with weapons that required one hand to operate, and personally, Cid didn't care if the kid wanted to commit suicide or not.  
  
The men they had gathered were just as bewildered as Cid knew the rest of the colony was. But this wasn't the time to sit and scratch heads. This was a time for action, and even his shaken soldiers knew that. They had grabbed their rifles, masks, and goggles enthusiastically, ready to protect their Home. It made Cid proud to have such loyal people under his leadership.  
  
Weston halted, and Cid called out the order over the communicator, causing the lines of men to stop. Ahead, the dust was clearing, and they could all clearly see the Yevonites coming from inside the tower, crates full of supplies and materials. A couple of the transport hovercrafts were beside the airship, ready to be loaded.  
  
Cid growled and yelled into the communicator loud enough for anyone in earshot to hear, "Those bastards are stealing from us. Let's get em!"  
  
And with that, the men roared, causing Weston and Gatta to instinctively start running, as to not get trampled.  
  
Weston saw a Yevonite close by and raised a gun. "Time to test these things," he said and pulled the trigger.  
  
The impact of the hypersonic bullet was what really grabbed Weston. It wasn't the sound the gun made, one reminiscent to a high-powered nail gun, or the kick back, which wasn't that much, but the impact. The unfortunate Yevonite soldier that had been him his sights flew back quite a ways, dropping the crate in his hand. Weston could still see a line in the sand left by the wind of the bullet. He had not seen what the bullet had done to the man, but only knew by the rag doll fall that he'd hit the soldier in the chest.  
  
Weston fired again, and again, knocking more Yevonites off of their feet and into whatever they impacted with, be it ground, wall, or vehicle. One of the soldiers he had hit was a headshot, and for due reason, Weston didn't remember that sight too long. All he knew was that the bullet caused one hell of a mess, for he could see blood splatter fifty feet away from where he'd shot the soldier.  
  
He wasn't holding the trigger either. He was afraid that a burst would utterly tear a man into different directions. Slowly, though, as the hornet's nest of Yevonites became aware of the onslaught, he knew he'd have to use both weapons. He saw Gatta squeeze off a round and another Yevonite went flying, and it was then he realized a large body of men with these rifles was behind him.  
  
With a grunt he pulled Gatta to the side and yelled into his ear, "Time to flank!" and pointed to the Al Bhed soldiers in emphasis. Gatta nodded and ran off to the left, while Weston ran towards the right, leaving Cid to fall back into his company and shout commands. The volley of hypersonic shots that came next shook the dust from the air, creating bullet trails in the shallow, yellow fog.  
  
Weston turned and fired a burst off into a growing mass of Yevonite men. Why they massed together so much, he'd never know, but he knew that it was to their advantage, and, the hypersonic weaponry didn't hurt either. But he could still see the Yevonites firing volley after volley, causing a large number of the Al Bhed to fall. Weston fired into the group again, and then turned towards the airship. It was then that he noticed a driver in the cockpit. Accompanying that scene was the clicking and whirring of missiles being armed.  
  
Desperately, he fired into the cockpit, but his shots sunk into metal, for in desperation, his aim had faltered. In horror, he watched as a missile dove into the group of Al Bheds.  
  
He fired continuously until his handguns clicked. He rolled and loaded to more magazines, clicking the slides into place. The sidearms whirred and he began firing once more, trying to hit the glass of the cockpit. He growled as his weapons clicked once more and started running for the airship's open bay doors as he was reloading.  
  
In a bright flash, Weston saw a thick light beam collide with his destination, and in a moment, the airship was gone, and Weston was flying, back first, in the opposite direction. He slid a few yards before stopping and getting up, only to turn to see a large cannon looking mechanism fire another one of the streams of light straight into the waning group of Yevonites. In a flash, the men disintegrated. Weston slowly walked forward as he no longer heard any opposing rifle shots. In the middle of the remaining Al Bhed soldiers, the "tank's" hatch opened, and out popped Rikku, breathing heavily.  
  
Weston could see Gatta heading towards the tank and he did so as well, seeing Cid squatting next to a wounded soldier on the way.  
  
Rikku wasn't smiling, but Weston knew the girl had adrenaline flowing through her veins. Weston looked up to her and she looked down to him, tilting her head.  
  
Meekly, Weston said, "How much for one of these?"  
  
"Free of charge."  
  
Weston blinked, looking up to Rikku. She grinned almost devilishly.  
  
"You can have anything you want,' she said firmly, and then added, "as long as I get to come along with some men to personally rip that bastard Nyka a new one."  
  
Weston looked to Gatta, who shrugged, and then noticed Cid walking up, wiping his hands on the sides of his trousers. Cid nodded and Weston turned back to Rikku.  
  
"You've got a deal," Weston replied with a grin.  
  
--------------------  
  
postA/N: Thanks to the following bands for providing loverly music that fits perfectly with certain parts of this chapter (and most of these guys are underground or unsigned, you'll find their stuff on MP3.com, if you're interested): Point of Recognition (now known as Count the Cost after a reformation), Burnt by the Sun, Carnal Forge, Nevermore, Haste (a fellow band from my state ^^), Overcome, Demon Hunter, Arch Enemy, Hyde, Reflux, It Dies Today, and Extol. This music keeps my energy up and eyes opened, because it's loud, fast, and heavy. Check 'em out if you like Death/Speed/Thrash Metal or Hardcore.  
  
If you're curious as to the "Gil" I refer to in this chapter (and will be referring to the rest of the story), it's not really based on the Gil in the FF series. Why? Well, I guess I wanted to be creative. Global Info-Link dollars (http://www.gil.com.au/member-services/gil-dollars/index.shtml) are dollars you earn by renewing your subscription to GIL. It's a "loyalty program" used to keep subscribers to Global Info-links happy and ready to renew. For every 10 dollars (US) spent, you get 1 GIL dollar. So, two hundred thousand Gil would be 2 million dollars (US). Yeah, fuss and complain if ya need to, but I wanted to have some real-world connection to the currency used in this story. It's not very tried and true to the FF series, but this makes it a whole heck of a lot easier to convert between your monetary values. Like I said, I'm lazy :P  
  
Oh and if you couldn't guess, this little chapter took longer. Why? Well, besides the Anime and gaming kick from Christmas (I received Neon Genesis Evangelion Perfect Collection, 12 hours, Escaflowne movie AND series boxed set, probably about 16 hours, and the Armitage III boxed set at 4 hours {I have both Armitage movies, but nothing compares to the series!}, and then, the following games have been sucking my attention away: Mortal Kombat Deadly Alliance, Ratchet and Clank, The Thing, Suikoden III, Medal of Honor: Spearhead, Freekstyle, Guilty Gear X, and my Neo-Geo emu and roms *innocent look*...) and the fact that so many web-comics are having such interesting story arcs. I'd like to call myself an online-comic aficionado because I follow so many...well, so many of the popular ones, that is. But two main ones have been grabbing me lately: First and always first, MegaTokyo. I've been following this fic since its inception and Piro's never failed to steal my attention away from whatever I need to be doing at the time. There's so much angst! And all those awkward moments. Makes you just wanna grab the monitor! Haha, and Largo's romps in the city...classic stuff. Second of all, Gene Catlow's first major story arc is about to come to an end, and what an arc it is. Blah, now I'm just rambling. New paragraph.  
  
As you can tell, I follow online comics like a rabid lunatic. Every morning, before classes or before breakfast on weekends, I check every comic on its respective day. I have roughly 40 to check every two days, a few (like Demonology 101) every other week. So, blame them if I get lax. But, hey, I'm just boring ya with this page long A/N. Happy New Year, peeps. I'm gone to go check the midnight updates of a few comics. Just hope we don't get a Dead Piro Day... -.- 


	14. Chapter 14: The Sword and the Stone

Chapter 14: The Sword and the Stone  
  
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Darkness. It's all that surrounded me. Time didn't exist. I couldn't see. Couldn't feel. I couldn't even hear my own heartbeat, if I had one. Why I was in this darkness was beyond my comprehension, for my only thoughts were of her.  
  
Every moment I thought of her. That last prick in the endless stream of time was what I'd live over and over. A burst of light, the parting of a cloud, whispered words, and a failed embrace. The light grew and I fell through; then, nothing. No feelings, sounds, tastes, sights; I was a dream without a dreamer, a lost remembrance of a long-dead civilization. I was nothing, for I had come from nothing, and had returned to my nonexistence.  
  
"So this is what I get for saving the world?" I remember asking the void that after my millionth or so time of reliving my last few moments in Spira again, hearing her words. I remember screaming those words to her as I fell, but I had already lost my voice.  
  
Every 'living' moment in that hell was another nail being driven into my heart. I felt no longer, but my emotions tormented me to no end. My mental anguish was my pain. My memories were my sight. My hearing consisted of only three words, and yet, I felt more inside than I had ever in my 'life'.  
  
The more I wandered in the darkness, the more it effected me. My hope of a new birth began to slip away, my hostility towards circumstance grew, and I began to loathe. My hatred began to consume my thoughts, my memories. Instead of remembering her words, her face, her touch, her lips, I remembered being robbed of her, and my happiness.  
  
I'd form faceless enemies with my mind and hack away with an invisible sword. My anger trained me and numbed me. The pain was too great, and I buckled. Yet and still, I longed for her. Her sapphire and jade eyes haunted my own. Her angelic voice hung in my ears. Her lips still lingered on my own after so long. Despite myself, I could not forget her. Nor would I ever forget her. My love for her kept me human while I trained my mind with countless battles, fighting foe after foe, aware of nothing else.  
  
I could not imagine the darkness surrounding me and within me as being the Farplane. Was I ever truly alive? I refused to believe this was how I was to spend the rest of my eternal life, if what I had was even 'life'. Was there a way back? Even though I still had an inclining of hope, I had my doubts. And the doubts made me feel guilty.  
  
I vaguely remember a voice coming to me. It was monotone and hard to understand, and the only real phrase I could make out was "Hold out your hands." And I did. It wasn't voluntary, really, but more of a reflex. In my right hand, cloth covered cylinder was placed. "This is your sword," the voice simply explained. In the left, a spherical object was placed. The voice again, explained, "This is your stone." Confused, I tried to speak, but found that I couldn't, which wasn't much of a surprise.  
  
I remember being pushed forward slowly, towards, at least it seemed at the time, a small circle of light. I could make no detail of the light, but could tell that it was there. It was as if I was looking at the sun through the back of my eyelids. As I grew nearer, I felt my thoughts switch back to her. And for once, I could feel myself trying to smile.  
  
Faster and faster I felt myself move, the light growing larger and larger all the while. My thoughts circulated, good to bad and back again. I was starting to become "aware" of myself. I felt...weight from the objects in my hands. A pressure started to close in as the light grew to surround me. At the moment I felt myself implode, it stopped, and I could open my eyes.  
  
As my eyes adjusted to the light, I began to start to truly feel again. Millions of tiny little needles seemed to prod my skin as I made the first few wobbly steps. The sounds faded in, as if long-held hands unfurled their grip from my ears. Smells that were alien to me started to fill my nostrils. Moist air started to fill my lungs. The darkness that was previously around me faded slowly away, whilst a barrage of colors and distorted light begin to fill my eyes. I blinked a few times and the image focused, revealing recognizable images of grass, trees, and flowers. It was wonderful to see again.  
  
I held the glowing stone tightly as I looked around. In the distance was Luca, while around me there was only grass and a few trees. I couldn't help but pinch myself. And I felt pain. For this split second, pain was my savior, for what I had left was a world beyond pain. And I was alive. I could feel my beating heart within my chest. I could hear almost every single pat of rain against the blades of grass. I could smell and breathe in the moisture in the air. And I could see. After so long in darkness, I could see.  
  
I looked myself over, making sure I was -all- there. As I had thought (due to the cold rain drops hammering against my skin) I was naked, save for the sword in my hand. The blade was thick, and I knew it was heavy, but somehow, I was able to carry it without much trouble.  
  
Seeing as I couldn't stay in the field and I couldn't run very well due to my bare feet, I decided to walk in Luca's general direction. I imagined what a sight I'd be, waltzing into the city nude. But, honestly, I didn't care. If anyone got in my way, they wouldn't enjoy the consequences. I had one goal, and one goal alone: -her-.  
  
--------------------  
  
The lone private was about a mile outside of Luca when he came upon the two Yevonite guards. Due to his desperation, he didn't even see them. He simply bolted through them. Unfortunately for him, he tripped and stumbled a few feet behind them, disorienting him even more so as he rolled to a stop.  
  
The Yevonites slowly walked toward him, rifles raised, completely unaware of the private's spared life and messenger status. Grinning, the two men fired.  
  
--------------------  
  
I walked along the dirt path I had come upon, my arms wrapped around my own chest for warmth. The scenery hadn't changed much, but I had to remind myself that I didn't know what I was in store for. Time was an idea I'd have to get used to again. To tell the honest truth, I had fears that everyone I had known was dead. I didn't know how long I had been gone and there was really no way to tell until I met a familiar face. Or asked questions.  
  
Luca's skyline was growing closer and closer with each step and I found myself in no mood to stop. I was determined, even if I had my doubts. Fate hadn't been kind to me, so why should I think any different?  
  
But I had to think differently. I had come back, strange as it was. A life without her wouldn't be worth living, however...  
  
With a shake of my head and the squinting of my eyes I pushed onward, cold, confused, and ready to find some sort of clothing. My eyes focused on my feet as I walked, not particularly interested in the old sight in front of me. The cold mud sucked my feet down and left prints among the others. Funny, the tracks I was walking through seemed fresh. Generally, people stay indoors when it rains...  
  
The footprints stopped short at the foot of something I hadn't expected to come across. I knelt, stuck my sword into the ground, and looked the Crusader's body over, knowing the soldier was long gone. The smell of urine and feces emanated from the corpse and I could see two bullet holes in his chest.  
  
I tried to stop myself, but it was more of a reflex than voluntary action. With a grunt, I pulled the boots off, noting that they were two sizes two big. After pushing them to the side, and wincing, I slowly removed the trousers. The smell nearly made me lose whatever was in my stomach. My nose involuntarily shut itself off as I slipped on the soiled trousers and inched on the large boots. Once I had double-knotted the shoelaces, I slipped the soldier's over-shirt off and tried it on. The soldier's shoulders were broader, but I fixed that by tucking the shirt's tail in.  
  
Either my drive to get my goal accomplished or my need for clothing allowed me to ignore the stench and the drying blood now sticking to my skin. I tried to convince myself that waltzing into Luca like this was better than going naked. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I'd have been better off naked.  
  
--------------------  
  
"I hope Lady Yuna will be pleased..."  
  
Weston laughed. "Well, let's see...First, you leave without telling her. Then make a deal with her uncle-"  
  
"That you incited."  
  
"Noted. But it's all on you, my friend. I was just following." Weston laughed, punching Gatta lightly in the arm.  
  
"Yeah, yeah."  
  
"S'not like she'll need to know."  
  
Gatta blinked. "Well, wouldn't -you- be curious if Al Bhed transport ships started arriving on -your- island?"  
  
"I suppose. But as long as they're helping us, what does it matter?"  
  
"Gah, you're impossible."  
  
"That's what my teachers told me."  
  
Gatta smirked. "I could see you not being one for discipline. But if you were a soldier following orders...how did you survive?"  
  
Weston shrugged. "It came easier in the Army I guess. Unlike my teachers, the Army provided me with a home, food, clothing, and a wage. The only thing my teachers gave me was a headache."  
  
"But you seem well educated."  
  
"Yeah, I paid attention and did my work, it's just the whole 'I'm better than you' thing. They didn't have the power to cut off my amenities, but the guys yelling at me in the Army -did-. You tend to want to follow orders given to you by someone who can take your meal away. It only took two missed mess-hall visits to straighten me up." Weston laughed, adding, "I'm a food fan."  
  
"You certainly eat like one. I don't know how you maintain your girlish figure."  
  
Weston cocked a brow and flopped his wrist limply, slurring his words and raising his voice's pitch, "Well, wouldn't -you- like to know, big boy?"  
  
Gatta rolled his eyes. "Yuna's not one to get mad, but don't say anything. Let me tell her. Who knows, she might be overjoyed to hear the news."  
  
"Right."  
  
--------------------  
  
With Luca only a few paces away, the rain slowly began to ease its barrage and a mist was beginning to rise from the ground. My sword was hooked into a back brace that had formally been the soldier's. Every step caused the sword to swing and slap against my back, which wouldn't have been as annoying had it been sheathed. I prayed I wouldn't have to use it, for after so long drowning in my own resentment...there was no telling what I'd do to any opposition.  
  
I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, trying to shake away any thoughts that might inhibit my actions. Step by step, the entrance to Luca's residential district came into view.  
  
At first, I had a hard time making out the two men, since their white robes blended easily against Luca's white stone. Cautiously, I waved, which seemed to get their attention. They began to run towards me as I began to walk towards them.  
  
And then, I stopped, blinking, as they seemed to be shouting at me. Confused, I turned around, trying to see if anyone had come up behind me. Oddly enough, no one had and I turned back around to see the two men even closer than before. Then, I noticed the machina.  
  
With a grunt, I leaped into the air, surprised by my own agile movements. Thankfully, my time spent alone had not been for naught. I had seemingly acquired some skill from my time in hell.  
  
It only took a few seconds for my boots to land on the men's heads, pushing down on their spinal columns and then forward for my own momentum. I flipped and rotated before my feet hit the ground and my sword was already drawn. The men hadn't even turned around yet and in their confusion, fired the machina off. Only then did they turn.  
  
Swiftly, I strafe-jumped to the side and landed a slash into one of the machina, wrenching it from the man's hands. Using the sword's handle as an anchor, I spun around, my rigid legs bringing the men down. My foot came down upon the machina and I pulled the sword from the weapon's wooden frame.  
  
As I rolled off to the left, raising my sword in defense, I heard the first shot head my way. With a clang, the metal projectile reflected off of my sword and off into the distance, hopefully hitting dirt. Quickly, I lunged forward at the man still holding a machina weapon while sweeping my leg towards the other. I failed to hit the shooter, but managed to knock his accomplice off of his feet, giving me a slight upper hand.  
  
With me so close to him, the gunman couldn't fire his machina, but he did make a few swipes at me before I finally felt my sword graze flesh. The man howled and dropped the machina, which I promptly kicked to the side. With a couple more slashes, the man's white robe had grown red and he fell backwards.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the remaining man crawling towards his gashed machina weapon. I pounced, fingernails digging into his back. With an audible shunk, my sword connected and dug into the ground below before I pulled it up, returning it to my back brace. I knelt by the injured man, clearing my throat a few times before trying to speak for the first time in no telling how long.  
  
"Why did you attack me?" My voice cracked at first, but smoothed out by the last vowel.  
  
The man let out a whispered, "Crusader filth..."  
  
I looked my clothing over and noted that maybe having a Crusader uniform on wasn't such a good idea. I pressed further, "And who are you?"  
  
"A proud...Yevonite..."  
  
I stood, blinking. Yevonite? I thought. What the hell's happened while I was gone? I hunched my shoulders and moved toward the entrance, my head filling with questions at every step.  
  
--------------------  
  
Eimour sighed as she once again made her way to the local store. The streets were relatively empty, but the Yevonites' patrols had been strengthened to four men a patrol, and two patrols per street. The walk to the store thusly, didn't feel safer, but felt more dangerous, since she surely didn't trust the men that had barged into the inn and killed its owner and receptionist.  
  
She cautiously stayed in the middle of the street, keeping off of the soldier filled sidewalks. They eyed her as she eyed them. A few soldiers even moved towards her, but then backed off, obviously a scare tactic.  
  
Finally, Eimour opened the shop's door and stepped inside, sighing in relief. The shopkeeper smiled.  
  
"Surviving the trip here again?"  
  
Eimour nodded. "Yeah, but it looked like there were more soldiers out on the streets today."  
  
"Yeah, they beefed up security because of the incident earlier today in the gate-side residential area."  
  
"What incident?"  
  
"You didn't hear?"  
  
Eimour shook her head. "Not a word."  
  
"Surprising. News travels fast..."  
  
She laughed. "I don't get out much."  
  
He nodded with a smile, but then lost it. "Well, since you haven't heard, I'll fill ya in. Early this morning, around three I believe, a force of about four hundred Crusaders entered the city. Some claim they wanted to take over Luca themselves. Most, though, know that they were here to liberate us. Unfortunately, they left their Chocobos exposed as they marched towards the residential area and our Yevonite friends were waiting for them. Even set up a trap..." The old man sighed and then continued. "The force was massacred. Only a few Yevonites were lost. Rumor also has it that Gatta's right hand man was slaughtered in the massacre too...but no word from any officials, yet..."  
  
Eimour's head dropped, saddened by the waste of life and the failed liberation.  
  
The old man was sullen himself for a moment, head hung, seeming to be offering prayers for those lost. After a few moments, his disposition lightened and he said, as if starting over the conversation, "What can I get ya?"  
  
She laughed. "A job, a new home, a new life...but I suppose the normal groceries will do."  
  
"A -job-, eh? The job at the stadium open back up?"  
  
"Someone contacted me, saying that my job was still there, but instead of concessions, I'd be working in the newly converted locker rooms, serving a bunch of restless and touchy-feely soldiers... Not my idea of a job."  
  
The old man nodded as he set a couple of loaves of bread into a basket. "I don't know about the home or life thing, but I know I can get you a job. The only problem is...you'd still be serving those surly soldiers, but you'd be getting paid decently, and you'd have protection from any of the 'touchy-feely' types."  
  
"That's...tempting...but do soldiers come in your store a lot?"  
  
He laughed. "No, the job is at my brother's pub."  
  
"The one next to my inn?"  
  
He nodded. "That's the one. I'd have to speak with him first, but I'm sure you can start as soon as possible. I'll set up a meeting for this afternoon. Oh, has the rain stopped?"  
  
"Yeah. Lots of clouds though. I think it might be threatening to return soon."  
  
"Well, since the pub's right next door, you shouldn't have a problem staying dry, if it were to rain again."  
  
She smiled and nodded, handing him most of her money. This time, his charity wasn't as giving, and he gave her half of it back.  
  
"You know, dear, that I'm not going to take that hunk of change. The Gil has inflated and for you, that's dangerous. Here are your groceries. Tell that youngster of yours to look in the second basket, near the bottom. I've got him something special in there."  
  
She graciously thanked him and nodded, leaving the store. The trip back to the inn was a bit chipper for Eimour, and upon entering her apartment, began searching for the present left by the old man for Gary.  
  
She smiled when she saw a large chocolate bar sitting at the bottom of one of the baskets. Gary came waddling over from the window.  
  
"Groceries, mommy?"  
  
"Yes, hon. And here's something just for you."  
  
She handed him the bar and he tore into it hungrily. She had to admit; chocolate had odd effects of people, especially Gary. He had had his first taste a couple of years ago, and has since begged her for it every time she went to the store. She couldn't always afford it, but tried to get it every time she could.  
  
With a sigh, Eimour crossed over to the window, letting Gary follow her, chocolate now covering his mouth. She looked out of the window, looking down below, watching the soldiers and inhabitants dodge each other. She wondered where Luca's future was heading, and how the incident earlier had affected it. If the pub job played out, she'd be secure, at least, for a little while. Of course, had it not been for the old man, she wouldn't even have the possibility of the pub job.  
  
She owed the old man so much, yet she knew nothing that she could do to repay him. A few tears escaped her eyes and after a little while, Gary crawled into her lap. She sat at the edge of the window, son in her lap, waiting for afternoon to come.  
  
--------------------  
  
Gatta blinked, looking towards Weston. "No, I don't think we should leave her out of the loop. I mean, Cid's her uncle, Weston. It's not like we could hide it forever. Besides, what in the world do you think she's going to suspect when Al Bhed transport ships start mysteriously arriving in Besaid?"  
  
Weston shrugged. "Jeez, it was just a thought. A lot less trouble if we keep this strictly a military affair. Then again...there's the fact that we couldn't hide it that long."  
  
"Rikku would mouth-off about it to her despite any measures we would take."  
  
"So we'll let Rikku tell her, then?"  
  
"No. I'm in charge of the Crusaders, and I report directly to Yuna. I don't need a middleman...err...woman."  
  
Weston nodded and walked over to a window. "Besaid's in view."  
  
"We'll be there in a matter of minutes. Now remember, let me do the talking. No mention of the clash with the Yevonites."  
  
"I thought we weren't keeping anything from her."  
  
"I don't want her worried this early in the deal."  
  
Weston nodded. "Yeah. So, we stick to the 'contract' story?"  
  
"Mmhmm."  
  
"And if she asks why we're dirty, why I'm carrying two Al Bhed weapons, or why we're bringing in a few boxes?"  
  
"We're dirty because we were caught in a windstorm, you're carrying those weapons because I gave them to you, and those boxes are a part of the deal."  
  
Weston nodded, satisfied.  
  
After a few moments of silence, the airship shook and then settled down with a thud, shaking the two men in the cargo hold. Slowly, the bay doors opened, bathing them in sunlight. Weston squinted, raising an arm up to block out the sun.  
  
"Jeez..."  
  
Gatta laughed. "Hey, at least it isn't dust."  
  
"True. So, are we heading directly to the chopping block or would you like to prepare your obituary first?"  
  
Gatta snorted and walked up to the cockpit. A moment later, the airship's engines died and Gatta emerged, nodding to Weston.  
  
"The pilot is staying here for the moment. After we speak to Lady Yuna, I'm going to get some men to take these supplies to the barracks."  
  
Weston nodded. "And where do I go after the rendezvous?"  
  
"Where ever you want to."  
  
"Alright."  
  
With that, Gatta made his way down to the cargo hold and then began walking out into the sunny field. Weston followed, and when his feet met grass, he saw that the airship had landed a mere twelve or so meters from the village.  
  
Weston wasn't too worried about how Yuna would react, knowing the girl to be a bit reserved, if not passive. But he suspected that demeanor was the product of a couple of years in the spotlight. He knew what it was like to always be looked upon. A week after his parents' murder, his face was all over the media. Newspapers, magazines, television news channels; they all wanted to hear the story of the boy who had survived three days in a forest with a crazed serial killer on his trail. Every sickening detail that was available was made public and Weston had to bear the onslaught of reporters and television hosts begging the question "How?"  
  
"Hey, you ok?"  
  
Weston shook his head, looking left and right, not aware of his previous dream-state.  
  
"You ok?" Gatta blinked as he spoke, obviously confused.  
  
"Yeah. Sorry. Dazed out."  
  
"Well, ok. But try to do it outside of the main path, ok?"  
  
Weston looked around and noticed a few pairs of eyes trained his way. He smiled and then hurriedly headed towards the temple, cheeks burning a little at the embarrassment.  
  
Upon entering the temple, Gatta stopped, causing Weston to do so as well.  
  
"Lady Yuna?" Gatta called aloud.  
  
"Don't tell me she's still asleep," muttered Weston.  
  
"Lady Yuna?" Gatta repeated. "May we have a word with you?"  
  
Finally, Yuna emerged, eyes baggy, hair tousled, her clothing wrinkled.  
  
With a yawn, she said, "Yes?"  
  
Gatta half-bowed, "Milady, I'm here to report that the Al Bhed have joined the Crusaders in your fight against Nyka."  
  
Weston rolled his head, popping a few vertebrae, watching Yuna as she digested Gatta's sentence. Finally, the former Summoner nodded, turning her back towards the two men as she went back into her room.  
  
Gatta turned to Weston, "She seems uninterested."  
  
Weston shrugged, "Like I said, she really doesn't need to know and obviously doesn't care."  
  
"I do care, Weston, contrary to popular belief." Yuna emerged once more, a glass of water in her hand. "And Gatta, never call this 'my' fight. If I had my way this would end now. But Nyka insists on giving peace-loving people grief."  
  
"Yes, milady," Gatta replied.  
  
"What's this with the Al Bhed? And why did you leave without telling me anything?"  
  
"We're terribly sorry, but we didn't want to disturb you. I was told you were asleep when I came."  
  
"Please wake me next time."  
  
"Yes, milady."  
  
"Continue with your explanation."  
  
"Yes. After many hours of deliberation, I came to the decision that allying with the Al Bhed would be beneficial to our cause due to their expertise in machina production.  
  
"So you've gotten Cid's support?"  
  
"Yes, milady."  
  
"But what does this 'deal' entail, exactly?"  
  
"Well, it includes weaponry and troop support-"  
  
Weston stepped forward, coming close to Yuna. "Here's the deal. Swords can't beat guns. We went to Cid and asked for help, he gives us this 'Can't help you' crap. I buy some ammo, then Gatta strikes a deal for two hundred thousand Gil for weapons, and then the Yevonites decide to rain on the parade. They destroy a tower, we fight back, kill them, earn the support of the Al Bhed, and here we are."  
  
Yuna drew back a bit, looking to Gatta in confusion. Gatta in turn turned to Weston, obviously very cross at Weston's outburst.  
  
"I told you to keep your mouth shut!" Gatta yelled, stepping towards Weston.  
  
Weston looked down, jabbing a finger into Gatta's smaller chest. "You're the one who's lollygagging around with this 'milady' bullshit. It's not like it takes five hours to report one little incident. If you just tell the truth instead of convoluting everything with lies that couldn't possibly stand under any scrutiny, things would go a lot smoother."  
  
Gatta growled and surprised Weston with a hard punch to the abdomen. Weston doubled over; gasping wildly for the wind had been knocked out of him by the punch. Gatta huffed and turned towards Yuna.  
  
"Yes, Lady Yuna, what he said is true."  
  
Yuna sighed, burying her face into her palms, speaking into them. "Gatta...Ughol's gone to Luca."  
  
Gatta blinked, leaning forward a bit in surprise. "What?"  
  
Yuna nodded, face still hidden behind her hands. "He left shortly after you did. He took about four hundred men with him..."  
  
Weston groaned and slowly got back on his feet, albeit a little shaky. Obviously, he was angered by Gatta's assault, but amazingly kept himself under control. In a very angry, raspy voice he uttered, "Why?"  
  
Yuna's eyes glazed a bit, showing a mixture of anger, disgust, and a deep sadness. Softly, she answered, "Nyka...has taken Luca."  
  
--------------------  
  
The street's tall, stone buildings cast enough shadows to darken anyone's mood. As I slowly walked along, my eyes darted to and fro, pushing every dent, scratch, stain, face, body, door, and window through my mind. The awareness level of my brain was tuned to overdrive, mainly due to the incident at the entrance. I didn't know what waited for me in the familiar parts -or this part, for that matter- of town.  
  
What really got to me was how large Luca -really- was. My long-since buried memories of my brief visit to this town weren't going to help me. I still couldn't believe at how little I knew of a city I had considered a mapped and conquered land. Even in this alerted state, awe filled me as I tried to imagine just what or whom these buildings harbored. It was obviously a residential district, but I doubted the more privileged families would even set foot in this area.  
  
The street abruptly ended and another began, the two streets linked only by a graveled stretch of sidewalk. Something clicked in the back of my mind and I stopped. I had no clue as to why I had stopped, and I looked about, listening closely. After a few moments, I heard the somewhat muffled sound of an argument. Seeing no one else around, I slinked towards the direction the sound was coming from and shortly found my way to a small goods shop. There was one large display window and in the second it took me to kneel to a near prone position I registered two more of the white robed men and an elderly gentleman behind the counter. I slowly inched forward and saw that the door was quite ajar, allowing the sound of their quarrel to reach nearby ears. I concentrated my senses onto the sound, eavesdropping, much to my common sense's objections.  
  
A deep, gravely voice uttered the words, "Not a chance."  
  
A lighter, younger voice replied, "So you're going to object to...us?"  
  
"Yes. And I still don't know why in the world you come to -my- store to supply that awful operation."  
  
"What, you'd rather the bodies rot in the street?!"  
  
"I'd rather not have those souls lost. It was a damned massacre!"  
  
"They attacked -us-!"  
  
"And then you killed every one of them!"  
  
"We were protecting you and the rest of Luca."  
  
"Protecting us? You call barging in, killing thousands, and taking over -protecting-?! What kind of fool do you take me for, son?"  
  
"Listen, old man. You either help us, or pay the consequence."  
  
"You can't do a damned thing to me, young one."  
  
"Oh really?"  
  
And my senses were set ablaze by a loud report. A dull thud followed, and I jumped up, bolting towards an alleyway as fast as my legs could carry me.  
  
When I had come to the walled end of the alleyway, I turned around and leaned my back against the stone obstruction. I kneeled and tried to catch my breath silently as I listened to my gasps and for any footsteps. My breath stopped when I heard a couple of hushed voices near the entryway. With as little noise as possible, I shifted my body-weight and fell against the ground, causing a nearby box's shadow to cast over my upper-half. I slid the box slightly to the left, catching a glimpse of the two white- robed men passing the alley's entrance.  
  
With a sigh, I slowly stood, holding my sword against my back with an arm. I inched forward along the alley's east wall and peeked an eye in both directions. To the right, the men were slowly walking, backs to me. To the left, nothing. But to the left was where I had come from and I wasn't planning on retreating. My chest shrank as I let out a huff of air. I started moving off to the right, keeping my distance from the men.  
  
As I progressed, my mind absently made the decision to follow these men. Obviously, my brain felt it knew more than I did, seeing as I really hadn't made the decision myself. Wonderful what a grace period can do to a mind...  
  
But even brains can make bad decisions, and mine had made a doozey. When the men rounded the corner of the street, with me falling in suit a ways behind, I realized what the "operation" was.  
  
It wasn't the sight of the bodies that initially angered me, nor was it how the white-robes were treating those bodies. It was the smell. The smell of burning coal (which I attributed to these men's machina), mixed with the stench of wet, soggy, and rotting flesh.  
  
Now, I can't undermine the sight, either. It was what caused me to react in such a...wild way. The two men stopped at this long line of wooden barriers that I supposed kept the public out. They seemed to relay some information to another man. When they saluted, my fears were confirmed. These guys were an invading army, and had unanimously won Luca by force. It was that fact, I believe, that set me off.  
  
The men began to turn and I ducked back behind the corner of the building. Slowly, I slid my sword from the back brace and spread eagle against the wall, my back being somewhat cooled by the stone. My left hand held the sword, the tip of its blade pressed against the stone sidewalk. My right hand held me flat against the wall and I listened...and waited.  
  
The clunks of the men's boots were easily discernable, and easily ranged. My head turned, the corner of my right eye waiting for a flash of white. Two seconds later, and my eye saw its target.  
  
In one fluid motion, my body twisted, all my weight shifting into my left arm. The blade's tip scratched into the stone and sparked as I turned. With every bit of my strength and body weight behind it, my sword swung upwards, catching both men with its girth direction under the chin. My weapon clanged as it stuck into the corner of the building. I stood, silent, left hand still holding the handle of my sword. Two deep thuds sounded, followed by a lighter one off to the side, and finally, another lighter one behind me, against the sidewalk on the other side of the corner.  
  
Satisfied, I wrenched my sword from the cornerstone, twirled onto the opposite street and ran full speed at the wooden barriers.  
  
--------------------  
  
Eimour sighed and looked into the mirror, straightening her blouse. The outfit had been her mother's, and she couldn't help but to smile, despite her nervousness.  
  
The outfit was the same one her mother had worn many times in the marketplace. It had been custom for Eimour's family to shop on Saturdays. She could see herself, the energetic eight year old begging for just one orange. Despite her parents barely being able to make due, she always got one of the expensive fruits. She giggled silently as she brushed some lint off of the skirt. Her orange would last days and days, for she only took small nibbles from it.  
  
Eimour again laughed, but this time, at the irony of her life. No matter how old she got, what kind of job she held, or who was in her life, she had always been forced to take the small nibbles. A big bite of something seemed as unreachable to her as the sun itself.  
  
And when her mother turned to religion, Eimour couldn't help but scoff at and stray from the woman that birthed her. Then age sixteen, she had little understanding of what faith was, and saw no use for it. Blindly believing everything was going to turn into gold was as sane as jumping from a tall building and expecting to bounce. At least, that's what Eimour had thought at the time.  
  
Now Eimour knew why her mother had turned to religion. The woman had little else. Her only daughter strayed from her, her husband had long since been dead, and her job was to clean a local ranch's Chocobo stables of excrement.  
  
Eimour shook her head of the thought and studied herself in the mirror. She had spent half an hour relearning how to use her old makeup. Surprising enough, she was pleased with the results. The outfit was a personal favorite, and hoped it'd impress the owner of the pub. The blouse was loose fitting, seeing as Eimour wasn't as buxom as her mother, but it still fit her midsection well. The skirt was knee-length, tasteful, but still slightly provocative. A pair of stockings darkened her legs and adorning her feet were two low-soled pumps that had also been her mother's.  
  
She turned and looked towards Gary's sleeping form. Slowly, she leaned down and kissed his forehead, brushing a few locks of the boy's dark hair. As silently as she could, she opened, and then closed the door behind her.  
  
Eimour slowly descended the stairs of the inn and made her way to the still-damaged front door. Upon stepping outside, she noted the dull, grey clouds that still clung to the sky. She knew not why the rain had come so quickly. But, the weather was her last concern.  
  
With a shaky sigh, she walked the few feet to the pub and reluctantly entered the establishment. Eimour looked around, noting that the pub was serving quite a bit of Nyka's soldiers. While this did make her uneasy, she really didn't want to care.  
  
She made eye contact with the bartender, prompting him to ask, "You the chick up for the job?"  
  
Eimour blinked, not registering the question immediately. Finally, she nodded.  
  
"Alright, I'll get the boss. Hold on a minute."  
  
She stood, in the middle of the pub, feeling the men's eyes glide over her. This didn't help her nervousness, and she began to fidget about, trying not to notice the many pairs of eyes fixated on her. To her relief, a short, balding man walked out from behind the bar and took her hand.  
  
"Eimour, I presume?"  
  
She smiled in return. "Yes. Are you the owner of this establishment?"  
  
"You betcha. Let's get behind the bar and discuss your hours and wages."  
  
Eimour blinked, not expecting the man's words. "I'm...hired?"  
  
"Of course. I owed my brother a favor, anyway. He speaks highly of you."  
  
She couldn't help but to smile and followed the aging gentleman behind the bar. He led her to a small office and closed the door behind them.  
  
The aging man motioned for Eimour to sit down, and she nodded, doing so across from a large wooden desk. He then sat down behind the desk and smiled at her.  
  
"First of all. Wage. You tell me what you'd like to get."  
  
Eimour blinked, and meekly replied, "I suppose five Gil a week would do..."  
  
The man laughed, slapping his hand on the desk. "Five Gil a week? How about five Gil a day?"  
  
"A...day?"  
  
"Sure. S'what my brother suggested."  
  
"That's...too much for a barmaid..."  
  
The man laughed again. "Nonsense. And you'll be waiting tables, not actually making the drinks."  
  
Eimour nodded.  
  
"How many days a week can you work?"  
  
"As many as you like."  
  
"Seven?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Sorry, but no can do."  
  
She blinked, half-cocking a brow.  
  
He laughed, holding up a hand. "We're closed on weekends."  
  
With that, Eimour laughed softly, nodding. "So five, then."  
  
"Yes, five. You can start as early as tomorrow. Eight in the morning to four in the evening are your hours. Can you handle that?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
He stood and Eimour did as well. She thanked him and was about to leave, but remembered once last thing.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Yes?" he replied.  
  
"Could I bring my son to work? He's...young, but I promise he won't be trouble."  
  
He smiled. "Don't see why not. I'd like to meet him anyway."  
  
She smiled warmly and thanked him again. Hurriedly, she made her way out of the pub and back into her own building. As she opened her door, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be taking small nibbles for much longer.  
  
--------------------  
  
Leaping the barrier was simple. I easily stuck my sword's tip into the stone street, catching a crack, and used it as leverage to launch my flipping body into the air and over the barrier, bringing the sword down in a swiping motion. The blade sliced into the shoulder of the barrier's guard, who immediately fell. Quickly, I drove my sword into his chest and then leapt sideways, now noting that my intrusion hadn't gone unnoticed.  
  
The machina toting men growled loudly in my general direction and hastily fired in my general direction. What I did next not only surprised the shooters, but me as well.  
  
Seeing a large, high-speed projectile heading right for your head shouldn't happen. But it did. I clearly saw the bulbous object and used my sword to deflect its path, sending it off into a stone wall somewhere. More shots came as I ran towards two men reloading their weapons. I quickly dispatched them only to see another coming up behind me. I crouched quickly and let my body weight rest on one leg while I slung the other into the soldier's own two legs, knocking him from his feet. My sword fell upon him and I was up and moving again, dodging the bodies as best I could.  
  
Alas, motor skills, no matter how well developed, will fail from time to time, and that's just what mine did. I tripped over a body and slid with my own momentum along the street, sword still in hand and sparking against the stone of the road. I managed to turn my body in time to see a solider running toward me. As my body finally decided to slow to a decent and less painful speed, I flung my sword at the soldier. The blade glanced off of his head, causing a nasty gash and he fell.  
  
I knew from experience that the pain of a wound doesn't come until you look at the wound itself, so I ignored the warm, sticky liquid beginning to flow down my arm and back and looked for anymore threats. Finding none, I walked slowly over to my sword and made the mistake of trying to place it into the back brace. What came from my throat in reply to the pain sounded like something that should never come from human throats. I dropped the sword and fell to my knees, the pain in my back and right arm coming to a new light.  
  
After muttering a growl, I finally got a peek at my arm's wound. Most of the skin was gone from the elbow up, replaced by a blood-coated mass of torn flesh and muscle. It wasn't very long, but it hurt, badly. That, and my right sleeve was completely gone. I imagined that my back was in much the same shape, save a few degrees less in severity.  
  
With a few logical thoughts, my brain began to detour from its primal instincts and started telling my extremities to ignore the pain and grab a robe from one of these dead guys. And that's what I did.  
  
The robe was large enough to cover my entire body, and then some. I just had to pick a tall guy's robe. After leaving the sword, picking up a machina weapon, and becoming a "Yevonite", I made my way down the other end of the square and walked casually, not expecting much resistance. And, surprisingly, I met none. But, I did realize that the closer I got to the market place, the more of a chance someone would notice that I was dripping blood onto the white stone sidewalk. I mean, even -I- had noticed it.  
  
Finally, I could see large banners and a large procession of people in the distance, and knew I was heading in the right direction. Even the docks were viewable.  
  
And the docks weren't the same docks. They were full of airships instead of sea faring vessels. Then again, I'd been gone for who knows how long. Spira would be a difference place, even if time had only progressed a few years into the future. I just prayed that I was not too late to find my way home. And my home had become her arms. I just needed to get close enough to be enveloped by them.  
  
As the market place started to get larger from my perspective, I began to jog, dodging who and what I had to. And no one seemed to think a thing of it. I saw no recognition light up in anyone's eyes. But I thought that that could've been due to the fact that the city was not itself anymore, but apart of something else...something I needed to find out about.  
  
Since I seemed to have a somewhat good disguise, I jogged through the market area and made my way towards the stadium. Even the Yevonites along the way didn't double take as I ran. It was amazing to me how lax this little army was; yet it still was able to take down such a large opposing force...  
  
I growled as a shot of pain hit my body, my body obviously tired from the stress I've forced on it. And my jogging wasn't going to help the situation.  
  
Finally, I jogged onto the docks and took a breather. Mind you, I was still getting stared at quite a bit, but no one said a word, so I was happy. Now to think of where I need to go...  
  
"Hey you!"  
  
I stopped catching my breath and stood erect, pivoting my body (and machina) in the direction of the sound.  
  
"Are you going to escort us or not?"  
  
"Huh?" I asked, having no clue as to what the voice was asking or where it was coming from. After a few moments, a large, round man in flannel attire stepped from behind a box.  
  
"What, are all of Nyka's men -this- stupid? You're coming to escort my supply airship to Besaid. I've got a hundred tapestry orders that need to be filled. Get your ass in the ship, now!"  
  
I blinked and then grinned. "Yes, sir," I replied enthusiastically, mocking a salute.  
  
"Eh, screw you too, smart ass."  
  
I laughed and jogged towards the ship, thanking fate, karma, and everything else I could. I was going home.  
  
--------------------  
  
A/N: Guess who's back! Finally, I've got this damned thing up! Yes, I know it's been awhile since the last chapter. But this one just was a bit of a doozey for me.  
  
I'd like to start this little A/N off by announcing that this chapter is dedicated to Th' Lady Shadow and her stellar fic (the very same one that sparked my drive to write AtS). Dreams Come True is now a year old! Yup, one year ago today (Jan 25) DCT was born. Happy birthday DCT and congrats to Shad for putting so much time, effort, and talent into it. It's truly been a blessing following DCT for so long. Salute!  
  
And, now for the personal thanks. I'd like to personally thank Shad for making that initial contact before this chapter was even started. Had it not been for your wonderful beta-readings and insight (and distractions ^.~) this chapter wouldn't be up to par. Oh, and I've put so many "Shad references" in this chapter that counting would be futile, but do so if you must. *offers chocolate as a prize!*  
  
Thanks also to you guys, the readers. Without you, AtS would be a lonely fic. Well, time for my nap. I've got college fun fun stuff tomorrow! *blech*  
  
And yes, the title of this chapter is another King Arthur allusion.  
  
PSA/N: Just noticed something in the FFX section. A whole bunch of character insert fics are popping up. Not that there wasn't any before, I'm just saying that in the past few weeks, tons have sprung up from out of nowhere. Some look promising while others need work while still others don't need to be there. Eh, weird shtuff man. Peace. 


	15. Chapter 15: The Return

From Lulu's Diary  
  
--------------------  
  
War. Horrible war. Thousands of lives lost; thousands more marked for death in the coming months, years, and decades? Oh how solemn this Calm is after such a beautiful start...Yunalesca was right...Humanity could never achieve the perfection Yevon had planned for us. Sin is apart of humanity as much as carnal desire. It's simply a matter of control...  
  
And yet, I sit here writing this, a wide and gaudy smile across my face because my goofball for a husband won't leave me alone! If he's not trying to bump my arm or tickle under it, he's gently massaging my neck or kneading into my scalp. Yet, he's the most wonderful distraction I could've ever asked for. He's not only distracting me from this entry, he's helping me (as well as the rest of the village) cope with the war. As a matter of fact, I've been so giddy lately, I scarcely remember there -is- a war going on.  
  
That, however, is a blessing and not a curse. I've seen some of those soldiers and I've seen Weston, Gatta, and Ughol. They've...got this horrid look in their eyes. I've had a hard time explaining it to Wakka...Anyway, it's more or less an absent glare. The battles they've endured seem to have sucked the life right from their eyes. Honestly, I was scared. Not for myself...but for them. They are doing something Yuna, Wakka, Kimahri, Auron, Tidus, or I could never truthfully do. They are fighting a war that wasn't caused by a malevolent being. The war they are fighting is a war between man and power. Childish, yes...but strangely as devastating as Sin had ever been, if not more so.  
  
Grr...I get serious for a moment and Wakka starts attacking the back of my neck with kisses. Typical...but don't mistake this for complaining. I'm not complaining in the least little bit.  
  
What's funny is that after Chappu was gone...I thought lovers' little idiosyncrasies were annoying and I'd never want that kind of childish physical contact ever again. And yet, here I am, playfully returning (as best I can in this sitting/writing position) Wakka's attention with a want I could scarcely imagine myself having a year ago. And despite my better judgment (which isn't like me in the least) I'm happy.  
  
And, through the egging on by my lummox of a husband, I've decided to help teach some of the village children magic. No, not the black arts, but the healing spells. He claims it will come in handy if any of the children get hurt playing. I personally think he's trying to get me to learn my way around children. What's ironic is the fact that I've always mothered someone; Wakka at first, and then, quite apparently, Yuna.  
  
Yuna... Sometimes I chuckle when I think of how much she must hate my coddling her. But it comes natural. After Chappu passed, she was all I had to turn my attention too. I grew cold to the outside world and focused my energy on Yuna. And now...I'm married, with a husband dropping hints at wanting a child. Yuna's a woman. She was a woman nearly three years ago...if not ages ago, when she chose to become a summoner, knowing full well what the consequences were.  
  
What's really begun to fringe on my own happiness is the look in Yuna's eyes every time they meet my own. Despite her smiles, I know what she's going through, for I have been there too. But I also know that there is no substitute for her suitor from Zanarkand.  
  
And now, as Wakka kneads along my shoulders, trying to pry me away from this entry, I still cannot hope for Tidus' return because it would just be...too miraculous to be real. It's been nearly three years since his disappearance and no trace has come of him since. How can I hope if there's nothing to build a hope from?  
  
Wakka's whispering into my ear, but he's said something I didn't expect. He's telling me "Hope doesn't need a starting point. Just believe in what you truly want and it'll happen. I'm with you now, right?" Sometimes...no, all the time (especially lately), he's right...and maybe I should heed his words. It's not set into stone that Tidus' return is impossible...  
  
If I found my happiness, Yuna will too. I'll end this entry with a wish: here's hoping -all- Spirans find their happiness soon. Oh, and, -please- ...bring Tidus back...I'm not one to beg, so you better listen, whoever's in charge up there.  
  
Now, I've got a husband to...-attend-...to. G'day.  
  
--------------------  
  
Chapter 15: The Return  
  
--------------------  
  
I stood, eyes watering as my cheeks burned and quivered in pain. My legs and back were soaked with blood, and I knew the dockworker staring me in the face could see -and- smell it. He was saying something, but I couldn't quite make it out. Apparently, losing blood affects more than just your center of balance.  
  
Finally, my ears popped as the airship lowered its altitude, and I could hear his question.  
  
"You ok?"  
  
"Y...yeah."  
  
"You don't look ok."  
  
"I'm...fine."  
  
"You a member of the Youth Alliance?"  
  
"The what?"  
  
"Apparently not..."  
  
I blinked, hoping that my confusion didn't just blow my cover. But, the overweight man probably cared less about who I was than why I was here. Besides, I was the one with the gun.  
  
"Where ya from?"  
  
"Zan...Besaid." I growled at my slip up. Even after the defeat of Sin, I still considered myself a citizen of Zanarkand.  
  
"So you'll be going home today, eh? One question though."  
  
I eyed him, knowing that my face was obviously contorted in a mixture of anger and pain. A bead of sweat from my forehead fell into my eye and I blinked away the sting as I kept my glare on him. "Yeah?"  
  
"You're the first Yevonite to say he's from Besaid outwardly."  
  
"What's the problem with Besaid?"  
  
"You sure you're ok? You're aware of the war, right? Or you just toting that gun around for fun?"  
  
"Yeah, I know about the damn war," I snapped, my anger beginning to take my calm attitude away. I never did like people asking me too many questions.  
  
"Just sayin', jeez. It's just that Yuna's little army is holed up in Besaid, and I think you'd be dead the moment you stepped off of the airship. How're ya gonna guard my cargo?"  
  
"I'll stick my head out and yell to them to keep their hands off of it. Maybe flash the gun around a bit. Scare 'em."  
  
"Not too smart, are ya kid?"  
  
I sighed, my eyes shutting in both anger and weakness. "I don't fucking care."  
  
"Watch that mouth, soldier. This ain't the barracks."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"We'll be there in a few. Keep in mind the time difference. It's probably a sunny afternoon in Besaid."  
  
"Yeah," I said, trying to keep my heart rate down. The cuts and gashes on my back and shoulder were blinding my judgment with pain, and my adrenaline was through the roof, trying to numb -and- anger me all at once.  
  
I kept my obviously cold glare on the man, eyes squinting due to the low visibility in the hold. Why I kept a close watch on him, I could only guess, but I thought to myself that it was probably either my heightened state of awareness or my urge to ram the butt of this machina into the man's mouth.  
  
My head was dizzy and my body was weak, and being stuck in a hot cargo bay with an overweight asshole was not helping my mindset much. I looked out of porthole, watching as the small island that was Besaid came into the far distance. I closed my eyes, feeling that I had around an hour left before consciousness fluttered away like a bird just released from its cage.  
  
--------------------  
  
Wakka yawned and popped his neck, his thick vertebrae popping audibly. He slowly slid his arm out from under Lulu's shoulder and eased out of bed. With a grunt, he pulled on his underwear and a pair of khaki colored shorts. He leaned back, letting his spine pop a bit before leaning forward, knees popping in place as they bent. A sigh escaped his throat and he turned towards the bed. Lulu's pale figure was tightly snuggled into the thin sheet. Her jet-black hair was half-covering the pillow, a few locks sliding down the side of her neck as she tilted her head.  
  
Seeing her lying there with a peaceful countenance was something Wakka assured himself he'd never tire of. With the ring on his finger, he had made a vow, and he would keep that vow. As he stood, watching her sleep, fists clenched, he promised that he'd never leave her. Chappu's death had left an unbearable scar on Lulu's heart and Wakka wasn't going to take any chances. He loved Lulu truly, and for that, he'd never let anything cause her harm, be it war, famine, or the end of the world. Wakka was hers, totally. With a warm smile, he bent forward and ran a fingertip over her bare shoulder before tilting his head downward, planting a soft kiss to her forehead.  
  
"I love you," he whispered and softly padded out of the hut.  
  
He whistled as he walked, his orange-red hair bouncing in synch with his stride. It was disheveled and down. The locks were constantly getting into his eyes as he walked, but that didn't matter. Wakka was truly happy, and simply just brushed the locks out of his face when they decided to bounce that way. He saw a somewhat flustered Weston coming from the forest path.  
  
Wakka waved and laughed, jogging towards him. "Hey there. Long time no see, ya?" "Hey. How's Lulu?"  
  
"Oh, she's great. How 'bout ya?"  
  
Weston smirked, coming to a stop, and shrugged. "Bored."  
  
"Where'd you and Gatta go?"  
  
"If Gatta were here, he'd tell me not to tell you, but I'm feeling a little rebellious right now. We went to 'Home'."  
  
"Oooh. How's Rikku? Still hyper?"  
  
"Yeah. And angry."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Well, we had a little run in with an invading Yevonite force. But we stopped them. That...cannon Rikku has is awesome."  
  
Wakka laughed. "Yah, that light-powered machina. Her brother actually tried to kill me and the rest of the gang with that thing. Now it's bein' used to kill some Yevonites. Ironic, ya?"  
  
"Yeah. The Al Bhed have decided to help the Crusaders. Supplies start arriving tomorrow. Now we just have to plan for..."  
  
"Ya? For what?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Wakka frowned, crossing his arms.  
  
Weston shrugged. "Don't worry about it."  
  
"You're talkin' bout Luca, aren't ya?"  
  
Weston blinked. "Eh...yeah."  
  
"Yuna told me and Lu about not too long ago," Wakka said with a nod.  
  
"We need to somehow form a plan by gathering intelligence."  
  
"That like gatherin' a whole buncha people together?"  
  
"Eh...no. It's reconnaissance."  
  
"Re...what?"  
  
"Someone, or a team, goes in behind the enemy's back and gather information that would help the Crusaders invade and take back the city."  
  
"Oh, ya."  
  
Weston decided not to continue, seeing the lummox scratching along the back of his neck. Obviously, military strategy wasn't Wakka's forte.  
  
Wakka and Weston stood in a measured silence for a while until Wakka noticed an airship closing in on the docks, finger rising to point towards the ship. "That'll be the tapestry dealer's ship. Besaid is famous for that stuff."  
  
Weston turned and looked up towards the ship. "Where's it coming from?"  
  
"We export to Luca...used to export to Bevelle. Looks like the trader isn't lettin' Nyka stop his business. Oh well. The more Gil the better, ya?"  
  
"Yeah. You have something to do with that?"  
  
"Nah. But I know the guy. Wanna come with me to the docks?"  
  
"Sure. I've got nothing better to do at the moment."  
  
Wakka laughed and started jogging towards the docks, Weston following close behind.  
  
--------------------  
  
As the ship's descent became more rapid, I could feel the effects of gravity and the pain on my brain start to gel. My eyelids felt extremely heavy and the gun was starting to shake as my muscles continued to weaken, my upper arms slowly turning to jelly. The ship was shaking tremendously, but thanks to my blurred vision, it was magnified ten times or more. I bent forward, trying to keep my aching (and hungry) stomach from regurgitating what bile was in it, and remotely heard the dockworker tell me they were landing. My voice was too weak for him to hear my witty reply.  
  
The ship thudded as it stopped and I could faintly hear the doors to the cargo bay open. I squinted my eyes, trying to focus them, but everything just looked like dark or light blobs. Through the opening, I could see two silhouettes that were about the same in size. I hunched forward, not really aware of my posture, and walked as best I could towards the opened doorway. I made it halfway there before something clicked and off went the lights.  
  
--------------------  
  
Wakka and Weston blinked at the collapsed figure. Wakka hadn't gotten a good profile due to the dimly lit cargo bay. Weston, on the other hand, had quickly recognized the figure and ran forward, both confused and curious.  
  
Weston knelt by the figure, leaving Wakka watching on in the doorway.  
  
"Who is that?" asked Wakka.  
  
"I...uhh...the statue?"  
  
Wakka blinked. "Wha? What are ya talkin' 'bout?"  
  
Weston flipped the figure over and nodded. "Wakka, get over here. We've got to get this guy some attention, fast."  
  
Wakka nodded and did as he was told.  
  
--------------------  
  
Gatta growled, fist hitting the thick wooden table in the center of the room. "Lady Yuna, I'm not going to sit by and let that idiot rule Luca like it's always been his. We have to free it."  
  
"Without proper planning, there will be unnecessary death, and I would hope you wouldn't want that on your conscience."  
  
Gatta sighed, leaning back further into his chair. "We could take the city back with the Al Bhed technology."  
  
"But you have to train the men how to use and maintain this weaponry, right?"  
  
Gatta blinked, stumbling over his words. "I...well...yeah."  
  
"And that takes time, does it not?"  
  
"A few weeks at least..." Gatta admitted, angry with himself for forgetting that stipulation. In all truth, he'd been so giddy over the alliance with the Al Bhed, he'd totally disregarded the fact that his troops would need extensive training with the machina.  
  
"Then see that it's done. We can assume that-"  
  
"Ughol's dead and a massacre has occurred. I know."  
  
"But we shouldn't jump to conclusions so quickly. You never know what someone's capable of. You learned that three years ago."  
  
"Yes, m'lady."  
  
Yuna sighed, cradling her head in a palm, eyes trailing off to some fond memory. "The defeat of Sin was our greatest achievement as a people, and all we're left to do is quarrel and fight over land and deities."  
  
Gatta only nodded, and broke Yuna's concentration with his next question. "I know we can't go in prepared, but how can we actually...invade, even if we're superior in firepower?"  
  
Yuna blinked and leaned forward, eyes fixed to the table. "That, Gatta, is simple. We gather as much information as we can."  
  
"And how, Lady Yuna, do we go about that?"  
  
"Any of your troops looking for a new career in Luca?"  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston sighed, a wicker chair creaking from his weight as he shifted slightly. Wakka was pacing back and forth in front of him, sandals kicking up little dust clouds from the path in front of the hut. Weston's eyes trained on the little clouds, as if mesmerized by their odd way of just disappearing. He smirked; wishing a few figureheads in Bevelle would do the same. Wakka stopped and turned towards Weston, raising a brow.  
  
"Whatcha smilin' bout, bud?"  
  
Weston shrugged, bringing his left shin up to rest on his right knee, arms crossing as he regarded the sun-lit figure in front of him. "Eh, nothing." Weston paused for a moment and then jerked his head backwards, towards the hut. "So, is that him?"  
  
"Ya, very much so. Shoulda' seen the look on Lu's face," Wakka remarked, a small smile crossing his features. After a small silence, Wakka's countenance changed back to the thoughtful, somber look it had had on the cargo ship. "But how?"  
  
"We'll have to ask him when he wakes up."  
  
"-If- he wakes up, bud," Wakka corrected.  
  
Weston laughed, left foot hitting the ground as he leaned forward in the chair, hands coming to grip his right-angled knees. "I don't think he's dead."  
  
Wakka smirked. "Ya, he wasn't alive to begin with, those three years ago."  
  
Weston looked blankly at the tall Wakka and shrugged. "Hell if I know. I wasn't around back then. I was in Columbia having a good ol' time."  
  
"Whatever ya say, bud." Wakka half-laughed and continued with his pacing. Weston leaned back into the chair, resuming his lounged posture, right leg bouncing a bit. After a few moments, he began to pop every appendage available. Once through with popping his neck, he asked, head still tilted, "How long does it take for a healing spell to -work-."  
  
"Minutes, hours, days. Depends on the person, ya? All I know is me an' Lu have to break the news to Yuna, and I dun know how I'm going to go about doing that."  
  
"You don't act too surprised about it yourself, Wakka. What makes it different with her?"  
  
"She's da one that loved him. I think she's gonna be a bit more excited about it than any of us. To you, a statue's come to life. To me an' Lu, we're getting a buddy back. To Yuna...well, to her, she's getting her life back."  
  
"I suppose that'd make a difference."  
  
Wakka hmmed and knelt, bringing himself eye-level with Weston. "I mean, haven't you ever been in love?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, you have any family, friends where you come from?"  
  
"No," Weston repeated, voice cracking a bit at the mention of the word 'family.'  
  
Wakka sighed and stood, shrugging as if he'd tried is best. "Then I guess you can't understand, eh? How it feels to get a loved one back?"  
  
"Guess not. I mean, my parents never seemed to just come back to life three years after they were -brutally- murdered. So you're right, I can't understand."  
  
Wakka held his hands up in defeat, a hurt look on his face. "Sorry for treading on that, brudda."  
  
Weston waved a hand and leaned further back into the chair, head turning to look off into the ocean, a soft breeze quickly drying the welled moisture in the corner of his eyes. "Don't worry about it."  
  
A tense silence came between the two as they waited for word from Lulu, who was inside the hut attending to the new arrival.  
  
For her, it was as if she'd seen a ghost, her already abnormally pale features turning even more so, looking like a ghost herself. Concentrating on the task at hand was hard when before her lay the newfound key to Yuna's heart. But still, doubt entered her mind. He -was- clad in a Yevonite uniform, completely naked under it with tremendous abrasions across his upper left arm, shoulder, and between his shoulder blades.  
  
Lulu had first cleaned his body of the clotted blood, chanting as she wiped away with her moist cloth, hoping to seal the wounds with her spells before they became infected. An infected wound was like kryptonite to both spells and potions, only the purest of white-magic spells able to break -that- barrier. And Lulu had no plan of letting Yuna see him in this condition.  
  
And, Lulu thought as she concentrated her energies on the wounds, there's no telling what's in that mind of his. Three years is quite a while to be away from the world. She had no idea how, when, or where he reappeared, but here he was, flesh and blood, as real as herself. All that was left was to concentrate, and pray. Lulu wasn't coming out until he was both conscious and healed.  
  
--------------------  
  
Gatta emerged from the temple, eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. He grunted and coughed upon stepping onto the main path of Besaid Village. The breeze from the ocean was wreaking havoc on both his nasal cavity and his eyes.  
  
Growling, he lifted a finger to his right eye and wiped from sand globules from the corner, a well-known annoyance of inhabiting an island. With eyes still watering -and a hand now shielding them- he started to walk towards the Crusader's lodge, knowing he had some reports to start and recruiting papers to review. He had left his desk a disheveled mess when traveling to Home, and he was most assured by the long line feeding into the lodge that the mess had only grown in his absence. But, something made him turn towards Wakka and Lulu's hut. What it was, he didn't know, but Gatta was a man that trusted his instinct.  
  
What he saw shouldn't have piqued his interest, but it did. Wakka was pacing idly back and forth as Weston stared off into the distance, a thoughtful but blank look on his face. Gatta tilted his head and started towards the two men, knowing that something wasn't quite right.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Hey there, Gatta. How're ya?"  
  
"I'm fine Wakka. Something going on here?" As Gatta asked this, he looked towards Weston for an explanation.  
  
Weston instantly felt Gatta's stare and turned his head towards him, answering with, "Digging up the past."  
  
Gatta's brow raised and he looked to Wakka for further explanation. Wakka returned the gesture with a shrug, obviously not knowing what to say. Instead, he excused himself and walked into the hut. Weston laughed dryly and patted the wicker chair next to his own.  
  
"Have a seat."  
  
Gatta nodded. "Don't mind if I do. Now, what's going on, damnit."  
  
Weston laughed, shaking his head as he leaned even further back into the chair, some of the crosshatched straw cracking under his weight. He raised a hand and pointed towards the statue in the middle of the village. "See that?"  
  
"Sir Tidus, yeah. So what?"  
  
"'Sir Tidus' has come back from the dead, it seems."  
  
Gatta blinked a few times, whilst Weston smirked, crossing his legs as he waited for the news to register.  
  
Finally Gatta murmured, "R...really?"  
  
"Yup. He's in there right now getting treated for a hell of a wound. Unconscious too, probably from blood loss."  
  
"Where...when...how?"  
  
Weston laughed. "I've no clue. All I know is he fainted on the newly arrived cargo ship, which claims to hail from Luca. Didn't know Nyka was letting traders get out of port."  
  
"He's not."  
  
"So what we have on our hands is a renegade trader and a 'back from the dead' historical figure. Sounds a bit odd, doesn't it?"  
  
"I'd say so," Gatta agreed.  
  
"I'm trying to connect the facts. He appears on a Lucan trader's ship dressed in a Yevonite uniform, bleeding like a leaky faucet, unconscious, without any form of identification, only possession on him a..." Weston paused to pull a small, glowing blue stone from his fatigue's hip pocket. "...glowing blue stone. Yup, I think 'Sir Tidus' has a bit of explaining to do...when he's better of course."  
  
Gatta laughed. "You're reading too far into it, Weston. Jeez. Calm down."  
  
Weston smirked and dug further into his pocket, pulling out one of the Al Bhed's magnetic bullets. "Forgot I had this." He held it up and studied it a bit, Gatta leaning over to take a gander at it as well.  
  
Eyes still locked to the unique ammunition, Weston said in an almost whisper, "Amazing what one bullet can do, isn't it?"  
  
Gatta seemed to be thinking along the same lines and answered, his thoughts becoming a stream of soft-spoken words. "Yeah, it is. With one of those things, you not only ruin the victims-" Weston cocked an eye at Gatta's use of the word 'victim' "-life, but the lives of his loved ones as well as his friends. That in turn creates a morale problem among -those- men, which in turn creates a slow moving rift that eventually swallows every man whole."  
  
Weston continued for Gatta, as if the two men were sharing the same brain. "Soldiers that never even knew him saying 'You remember so-and-so? He was a great soldier. One shot and he was dropped. S'a damned shame.'"  
  
Gatta nodded, adding, "And despite their willingness to go on, despite the heartless persona they have to take, even despite the situation they are in, they can't help but let a single man's death affect them in some way."  
  
And Weston finished, "Even if its just a simple wish: 'I hope I don't turn out like so-and-so, I hope that one bullet doesn't find me next.'"  
  
The two sat in silence, Weston rolling the bullet between his fingers, eyes glued to it as if he was studying a flower or butterfly. This continued on for some time, the two soldiers mesmerized by their shared thoughts, caught in a moment of synchronization that would better suit a battlefield than the main path of an island village. The hut's cloth door covering flew open and Wakka's head stuck out, the sound of it all causing both soldiers to jump, Weston flinging the bullet into the woods nearby.  
  
Wakka blinked at the two men's reaction, then said, "We need help, get in here."  
  
Gatta and Weston nodded, their heartbeats slowly returning to normal as the walked single-file into the hut.  
  
--------------------  
  
I knew it all had to be a dream. If it was even that...how could a dream -dream-? The darkness was once again around me, and all I could do was try to flail my arms and legs about, trying to find an escape. I didn't want to go back to that hell. But, it was upon me again, and anger took hold of me as I tried to thrash about, my mouth wide open as I silently screamed and growled. My mind ignored the fact that my arms felt as if they were coming into contact something, and I continued the thrash around. After a few moments, a warm feeling engulfed me, and I calmed. And then, my eyes opened, vision slowly clearing as I coughed a couple of times.  
  
"Good mornin', bud." A very familiar accented voice said, the 'bud' echoing through my head as I tried to bend my upper body. A hand came to my chest and eased me back down. My eyes locked to the small, pale hand and followed its connecting arm up to a face that, despite its paleness, warmed me.  
  
Lulu smiled at me, and softly asked, "How are you feeling?"  
  
I opened my mouth and heard a few garbled sounds. I tried clearing my throat, but there was nothing to clear; my throat and mouth were completely dry. I coughed a few more times and tried to convey my want for water by tapping my tongue against my lips. This only caused Lulu to bend over, trying to hear me as if I was saying something outside of her range of hearing. I growled in my head and tried to lift my arm, but found it nearly impossible. Only a finger twitched. I closed my eyes and sighed in exasperation.  
  
"I think he wants water," a foreign voice said, my mind not recognizing it at all. I opened my eyes and looked in the voice's direction. The voice itself was rough, but soft and soothing at the same time. It was certainly a man's voice, the beginning of the sentence gruff, as if coming off of a sandy creek bed and the end of the sentence cool, smooth, and easily flowing, like the water in a stream. The visage that seemed to belong to the face didn't quite match what I had expected. Standing behind what I could then see was Gatta was a wide-shouldered and muscular man that, had he not had such thick, dark brown stubble, could've passed for a teenager. His shirt was a muted forest green, his pants an odd mixture of green, brown, and black. The man's thick arms were crossed, his back leaning against a metal stove. His green eyes were locked to my own, and after that eye contact, I could tell right away that this was -not- a Spira native.  
  
A hand forcibly turned my head and a pitcher's edge came between my lips, cool fresh water filling my mouth. I bent forward a bit and swallowed, enjoying the refreshing moisture sliding down my throat and soothing my angry stomach. I kept drinking, feeling some vitality returning to me.  
  
Before I knew it, I had emptied the pitcher of its contents, and Lulu asked in a soothing whisper, "Would you like more?"  
  
I nodded, not sure of my voice quite yet. After clearing my throat a few times, I looked about my surroundings and discovered this to be Wakka's hut, my thoughts wandering back to my first day in Besaid, where Wakka fed me and allowed me to take a nap in his bed. I noticed Wakka standing near the doorway, and I realized he was about the same size as the stranger near the stove, and he was even in the same position: arms crossed and back leaning against the northern face of the hut.  
  
Wakka seemed more worried than shocked, which surprised me to some extent, until I figured out that he was probably worried about having to tell Yuna. And then, I remembered what was really on my mind.  
  
Cautiously, I spread my lips and spoke in measured tones, still not sure how I'd sound. "Where's Yuna?"  
  
Either the words didn't come out, or everyone was too weary and/or shocked to reply. I sat up slowly, my back wounds sore, but seemingly closed. My eyes wandered to each of them and back again, until Lulu, whose face was contorted in a half-smile, half-grimace, finally said, "In the temple."  
  
I started to swing my legs towards the side of the bed, and Lulu even put a hand out to stop me, but I wasn't going to be stopped, or so I thought. The stranger, whose speed was phenomenal, quickly -and easily, despite my regained strength- grabbed my legs and swung them back to their original spot, his green eyes staring into my own. I got his message.  
  
Lulu said, her voice level rising a bit, "Don't. You've still got an hour of recovery to go before you can see her. Besides, we still have to break the news to her."  
  
I nodded solemnly and watched as the stranger returned to his spot, my curiosity clouding my goal. "You're not from Spira, are you?"  
  
The large man smirked and turned to the others, then back to me. "He catches on fast. Is it -that- obvious?"  
  
With a nod, I replied, "Outcasts can always spot another of their kind."  
  
He laughed, nodding. "You're right, I'm not from here. Charles Weston. You can call me Weston."  
  
"I'm Tidus."  
  
"I know," he replied. "I'm well aware of your story. Wakka brags."  
  
Wakka nodded with a laugh. "Ya, I do."  
  
I asked, "How did you get here?"  
  
"I'll explain my theories later. But arriving here wasn't a fun trip, that's for sure." Weston replied.  
  
Wakka nodded, offering to explain for Weston with his own experience. "He just fell from the sky one day. Me an' Lu were on the beach," and Wakka then looked to Lulu as if affirming his story, "and then, boom, guy falls out of the sky, ya? Pulls a machina on us and says he'll kill us, then collapses cuz of a wound from the fall. As for what's new? There's a whole lot more to tell, but I'm not too versed in the particulars. I think Gatta could explain better."  
  
I looked to Gatta, who stepped forward, his voice shaky as he started speaking. "A...a lot of things have happened while you were gone."  
  
"It's been three years, what more could I expect," I said.  
  
He nodded and continued. "-Nearly- three years. And one of the major things is..."  
  
"The war," I finished for him.  
  
"You know about it?" Gatta asked, looking shocked.  
  
"I was in Luca for a little bit...I even fought some of those white robed guys. Yevonites, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Gatta replied  
  
I watched as Wakka whispered something to Lulu, and Lulu then excused herself and Wakka, saying that they were both going to tell Yuna. I nodded and Gatta continued as the two walked out of the hut.  
  
"After the defeat of Sin, the Yevon as a national religion crumbled. But, some people didn't want to believe that, and small factions started springing up all over the place. However, they were most prominent in Bevelle. Soon enough, Bevelle's 'New Yevon' faction gained power and a ruling council was formed. The people of Bevelle chose the head of said Council in a form of election. He was only known as Maester Nyka, and no one truly knew where he came from. Eventually, he fully had the people's trust, and merged the Bevelle council with Yuna's own advising council, thus dissolving Yuna's power in Bevelle."  
  
I couldn't help but just nod. This was quite a bit to take in.  
  
Gatta continued. "Two men dressed like Crusaders tried to murder Yuna at this year's Blitzball tournament, and that really got the ball rolling. The Crusaders were -the- premier military force in Spira, but then, they were disbanded in Luca and Bevelle through an action voted on by the New Yevon council. After that, Nyka started to build a military force of his own for, what we thought at the time, Bevelle's protection."  
  
Weston cut in. "And then the bastard decided to send troops in to Kilika, after what was left of the Crusaders moved to Besaid to 'side' with Yuna. It wasn't a coincidence. The troops opened fired on innocent women and children. Thus began the first battle of the War, and we kicked their ass."  
  
Gatta cleared his throat. "However, the New Yevon army was using Machina while the Crusaders stuck to their swords out of..."  
  
"Tradition," Weston chimed in. "But fortunately, after helping the Al Bhed to take care of a pest problem, we have some advanced weaponry at our disposal."  
  
I looked to Gatta, who nodded in confirmation. "That's right. Of course, all of this comes at high cost. Peace would be the better option."  
  
"But Nyka isn't going for that, is he?" I asked.  
  
Weston nodded. "Right. His latest move was taking over Luca in the dead of the night and cutting off the trade routes."  
  
"So the trade ship I came on was illegally running its route?"  
  
Weston hmmed. "-If- that's what he came here to do..."  
  
Gatta looked to Weston. "You think there's something else to it?"  
  
"Maybe," Weston said with a shrug. "But, you said I read too far into stuff, so I'll just let it go."  
  
Gatta shrugged. "Your theory may have -some- fact in it, but I still think this guy's just greedy."  
  
Weston nodded and turned back to me. "Where'd you get those wounds?"  
  
"I fought them."  
  
"With what, you're bare hands?"  
  
"No...a sword..."  
  
"And how did you get the sword?"  
  
"I don't know. I just...had it."  
  
Gatta raised a brow. "Had it...how, when?"  
  
"When I...woke up near Luca."  
  
Weston stepped forward. "So you just...to put it bluntly...appeared?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"And where were you all this time?" Weston asked.  
  
I shuddered out of reflex, turning my head away from them, saying through clenched teeth, "I don't know."  
  
They seemed to get the message and Gatta cleared his throat. "We'll leave you to rest now. It's great having you back."  
  
I nodded and watched them leave before laying back down, letting my head sink into the pillow. My thoughts went back and forth from all that I've missed and how I'd meet -her-. I closed my eyes and wished I could skip all the formalities and healing and jump into her arms. But then again, who said she even -wanted- me in her arms...  
  
--------------------  
  
Weston's eyes squinted in the sunlight, eyelashes keeping the dusty wind from irritating them. His arms were crossed in their usual fashion as he made his way towards the temple, Gatta trudging along his side.  
  
"Do you think we should go in there? I mean, we weren't invited," said Gatta, stopping and turning towards Weston.  
  
Weston stopped as well and pivoted on a heel, face turning to Gatta. "I don't think you need an invitation to go to the temple."  
  
"Put we're going to eavesdrop, right?"  
  
"What? No. Wakka said he knows that trader, right?"  
  
"Err...yeah, I think so."  
  
"I need to ask him something about that trader..."  
  
"Cooking up something?" Gatta said with a grin.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"Well, you gonna tell me? Or should I start an investigation?"  
  
Weston laughed. "I'll tell you in the temple. Let's go."  
  
Gatta nodded and followed Weston into the temple. Upon entering the stone lobby that housed the summoner statues, West nodded to an empty stone step where a choir had sung only three years before. Now, the temple was devoid of anything connected to Yevon, except the statues, saved by Yuna herself.  
  
Weston and Gatta sat and looked ahead.  
  
"So, Weston, what's this plan of yours?"  
  
"Infiltration."  
  
"Going behind enemy lines."  
  
"Yeah. I mean, we have men out there, cut off from support. Plus, we have to figure out -some- way of taking Luca back. And if we know what they have, we can formulate a plan a bit easier than going in blind."  
  
"I understand. Yuna has the same idea."  
  
"She does?" Weston turned his head, quizzical look on his face.  
  
Gatta nodded. "Exact same idea. Except, she didn't draw it out as much."  
  
"I wouldn't expect her to." Weston said, letting his gaze wander around.  
  
"So, should we begin training a man? Or men...whatever it takes."  
  
Weston shook his head, leaning forward with a sigh. "No, Gatta. I'll take care of it. Sitting around and waiting bores me."  
  
"So you'll do it?"  
  
"I need a vacation anyway."  
  
Gatta smirked, "A vacation from safety?"  
  
Weston shrugged and was about to speak before the door to Yuna's room opened slowly, and in what looked like a funeral procession, Lulu, Yuna, and Wakka solemnly walked out, single file. Weston turned to Gatta, mouthing, "Who died?"  
  
Gatta scowled and rolled his eyes, nodding to Wakka.  
  
Weston jumped from the step and grabbed Wakka's shoulder, taking the large man by surprise. "I need to talk to you for a moment, Wakka."  
  
Wakka looked to Lulu and Yuna, who had stopped. After a moment, Lulu nodded and continued walking; placing a hand on Yuna's back to edge her forward. Wakka watched the two women leave the temple and then turned his attention to Weston.  
  
"Ya?"  
  
"You know that trader guy, right?"  
  
"Eh, not really. Just done business with him."  
  
"Could you get me a ride on his ship?"  
  
"I dun think so, bud."  
  
Weston sighed. "Could you at least tell me when he usually leaves?"  
  
Wakka shrugged. "He'll probably leave tonight...around midnight, I think. Definitely later in the evening cuz of the time diff. If he's in trouble, he'll wanna sneak in, ya?" Then, with a hurried look on his face, Wakka asked "Ya done with me?"  
  
Weston nodded and looked to Gatta, Wakka walking in the direction the girls had left. "Know anything about being a Lucan?"  
  
Gatta shrugged. "All I could do is wish you good luck. And I would, if I liked you."  
  
Weston punched Gatta's arm and mocked a growl, laughing afterwards. "Bastard."  
  
--------------------  
  
I growled and rolled around in the bed, my energy level rising as I tried to sleep. The draw back to healing magic was that it made the healed individual a veritable ball of energy, and sleep was impossible. My body may have felt like a million Gil, but my mind knew that'd wear off in a few hours and the soreness would set in.  
  
With a huff, I slowly sat up in bed, half-expecting Lulu to jump out from behind something and push me back down. She never came and, after testing my legs' mobility by way of flexing my toes and shins, I swung my lower half towards the edge of the bed. My knees bent and I felt my shins collide softly with the side of the bed, which was a much-appreciated change from my legs' former position. Cautiously, I let my body weight rest in my right foot, and I felt my foot sink slightly into the cloth floor. Quickly, I set my left foot down onto the cloth, distributing my weight evenly, keeping my balance.  
  
I walked a few steps forward, only having to re-establish my balance once. A paced for a few moments, enjoying the movement since my body had grown stiff after its short yet grueling time in bed. "Finally," I said aloud, stretching, "I feel like myself..."  
  
"Well that's wonderful to hear!"  
  
I turned my head and saw Lulu stepping through the entryway, an uncanny (well, uncanny to -me-) smile spreading across her face. With the turn of my heel, I faced her, arms crossing as a smirk appeared on my lips. Lulu had changed, that was certain. Her wardrobe was more fitting a woman her age, and her face just radiated this nurturing glow that one couldn't help but link to maternal instincts. My smirk widened and I nodded my head to her. "My, my. Ms. Sunshine, right here in -this- hut."  
  
Her cheeks flashed red and I laughed out of surprise rather than humor. The cold, bitter woman I had left had somehow transformed into a warm maternal figure. But then again, as Gatta had told me, a lot of things have happened these past three years.  
  
She smiled warmly, the blush still in full bloom on her cheeks, and said, "That's Mrs. Wakka to you, young man."  
  
I blinked for a moment, the statement catching me off guard. On the quest, I had been pushing her to open up to Wakka, and now they were married? Yes, quite a bit has changed. While my thoughts started to wander towards what kind of changes Yuna had been through, I reflexively wrapped my arms around Lulu's neck. Her arms wrapped around my middle and I mumbled a "Congratulations!" into her shoulder before the embrace ended.  
  
Still, her blush lingered as I asked, "When did this happen?"  
  
"Not too long ago, actually," she answered with a smile.  
  
I smiled and nodded. "Took you guys long enough, sheesh."  
  
She laughed and playfully poked my chest, to which I stuck my tongue out. Her laughs increased as she tapped my chin. "Same Tidus, just with the stubble to go with adulthood."  
  
Without even thinking about it, I felt under my chin and, surprisingly, I did have a bit of stubble. The old man had never showed me how to shave...and Wakka never shaves...  
  
She smiled and said, as if reading my mind, "I'm sure -some-one in the village will show you how to get rid of that. Hey, that reminds me, Weston shaves -every- day. How about you ask him?"  
  
"Eh...I'll think about it. Am I out of quarantine yet?"  
  
She put her finger to her mouth and seemed to think about this for a moment before curtly turning around and heading out the door, turning her head at the last moment. "Nope."  
  
I huffed and stuck my tongue out, huffing and turning my back to the door, staring at the bed as if it was a mortal enemy. "I want rest, and I want it now," I told it, and then burst out in laughter.  
  
The door cloth rustled and I didn't bother turning. "Change your mind about my quarantine, Lulu?"  
  
Alas, no answer came, and I slowly turned, heart beating faster as I readied myself for anything. But what I saw made my heart completely stop.  
  
Standing, rather timidly I might add, was -her-. Her beautiful and expressive eyes immediately locked to mine, and I saw the same emotion in them as I felt.  
  
She was torn, not moving an inch, for in her mind, she was probably trying to decipher if I was real or just the dream I had been before. I inched forward and could see the tears welling up into her eyes. It pained me to see her cry, even if they were tears of joy. My arms spread outward like wings as I grew ever closer to her, and she seemed to back away for a moment, not sure yet if I was truly there. She was trembling head to toe until I finally enveloped her in my arms, my forehead and nose pressing to her own. Her gaze never left my own and as the notion that I was real and holding her in my arms, those tears released, and she relented her three years of anguish on my one shoulder.  
  
When her sobs subsided, and she had grown comfortable with the idea that I was indeed back and certainly alive, her moist, emotion-filled eyes turned back to my own. Just as I began to loose myself in those mismatched pearls, my mind snatched me back to my sole mission's objective.  
  
My eyes still traversing her own, I brought a finger upwards and traced its tip along her moist cheek. Then, I brought the moist fingertip to my fingers and lightly kissed it, saying in a low whisper, "I love you, too."  
  
And I meant every little letter, for she had been the single saving factor throughout my personal hell. No anger, no hate, no melancholy could dethrone her as the ruler of my heart, and I lightly pressed my lips to her own, letting her feel exactly what I was thinking.  
  
She tilted her head with an agreeable mmmph, elevating the kiss' force ten fold, her soft hand coming to the back of my neck, pulling me even tighter into our embrace. My eyes closed and as we stood there, our lips making up for lost time, the image of her standing in the doorway came back to me. She had not changed, physically, in the least bit, save for the shorter hair, which I certainly wasn't complaining about. She'd grown maybe and inch taller, and I noticed her features were a bit fuller, a side effect of shifting into adulthood, I supposed.  
  
Her other arm slowly wrapped around my waist as our kisses trailed off, her body language telling me she was about to speak. I eased my grip on her and smiled as she nuzzled into my shoulder, murmuring softly, "I had...had begun to believe...that you...weren't..."  
  
"I'll always come back to you...always." And I -knew- that I would always come back to her. Secretly, I wondered just what -did- bring me back to life. -Some-thing had to be the cause, but in all honesty, with Yuna in my arms, I could've cared less about it at that moment. I ran a hand through her hair, kissing into her scalp as she nuzzled into my chest.  
  
"I whistled, every day," she managed before a few more sobs got caught into her throat.  
  
A warm smile crept across my face, my hand slowly stroking the back of her head, softly whispering. "I know you did, and I felt every whistle."  
  
"Were you in...pain...while you were gone?"  
  
This was the question I had hoped not to be asked from the moment I arrived on the island. Of course I had been in pain. And I didn't want to lie to the woman I loved...but I honestly didn't want her to be worried the moment we were back together. So, as any gentleman would do, I fibbed. I sighed, putting my hands on her shoulders, and kissed the bridge of her nose. "You were the only thing on my mind and in my heart. I felt nothing but my love for you..."  
  
She smiled and looked up, lightly kissing my chin. "I love you..."  
  
I nuzzled my cheek into her hair and tightened the embrace. "I love you too..."  
  
"There's so much I want to ask you," she said softly.  
  
I nodded. "And I've got things to ask you, but one that can't wait." For a few moments, I was able to hold the pause out, watching her face light up anxiously. The strain on my lips was too much and I finally grinned.  
  
With a laugh, she put a fingertip to my nose and held it there. "You had me going there for a moment, mister."  
  
I laughed, kissing her palm. "But I really -do- have a question!"  
  
With a mock-impatient huff, she sneered, not able to suppress all of her smile. "And what is it?"  
  
Once again, I paused, contorting my face in odd angles to feign a moment of 'choosing words'.  
  
"Well," she said, the tone of her voice growing -slightly- impatient.  
  
I decided that she'd had enough -as if I had truthfully had that decision to make, in the first place- and asked, with a sly smile, "Does Lulu know you're here?"  
  
She nodded timidly.  
  
With a smile, I trailed a line of kisses along her jaw line, my arms pulling her closer into the embrace. "Well, let's get out of here. Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome with you before Lulu can 'hand you off' to me, so to speak. I've been picking up very...motherly vibes from her since I've come back."  
  
She laughed, shrugging. "Ever since she married Wakka, those maternal instincts of hers have crept on the entire village...while..."  
  
I raised a brow. "While...?"  
  
Her face sank for a short moment to convey her annoyance, "While tightening on me. She's...always doting on me."  
  
"She -loves- you. Let her have her fun," I said with a laugh.  
  
Her eyes locked to mine and conveyed a message that both excited and frightened me. While it wasn't exactly a lustful look, it was still very suggestive, and I began to notice that Yuna -had- changed. But the change was certainly not on the outside.  
  
With a sly grin of her own, she nudged my shoulder with her own and planted a light kiss to the nape of my neck, which did exactly what it had done in my dreams. A wave of warmth spread through my body and my arms were littered with gooseflesh. My ears turned a shade of red as they heated and my body was coming alive with sensation. This wasn't Yuna, the shy summoner from three years ago. In my arms was Yuna, the woman, who had come to terms with what she wanted and how to go about getting exactly that. There was no doubt in my mind that she had dreamt of this day from the moment I leapt into the clouds. Of course, I wasn't complaining one solitary bit, but Lulu would certainly beat me to a pulp if I even -looked- at Yuna in any sexual light. Her next few words snapped my brain back to reality.  
  
She said in a soft, husky voice, "But what if her 'fun' gets in the way of any 'fun' we may be having?"  
  
The sexual undertone in her sentence (not to mention her stressing of the word 'fun') brought the awkward feeling back to me. While I loved Yuna like nothing else, was I supposed to feel this aroused by her sultry innuendo?  
  
My eyes darted to my own body, which had grown slightly taller, the muscles in my arms and legs much firmer than they had been before. Oddly, though, my mind didn't feel a day older. And I supposed that was the cause of my awkward and confused feelings: an adult body conflicting with a teenage mind. Due to this, I didn't know how to respond. My mind was torn between responding to the obvious temptation, or politely -and underhandedly- changing the subject. I decided on the latter for both of our sakes. Hell hath no fury like a Lulu scorned.  
  
I nodded and softly kissed the tip of her nose. "That may be the case, -now- love, but I think I can persuade her to loosen up in time. Now let's go ease her worries. There's no telling -what- she's thinking after hearing us giggle like no one's business. How about a walk along the beach tonight?"  
  
"It's a date," Yuna smiled and said with a nod. Extended my hand and she gave a giddy laugh, taking it into her own. We walked out of the hut together, our hands, and hearts, intertwined.  
  
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A/N: Well, it's been nearly a month since 15A went up, and I imagine some of you wondered when 15B would make it up. I hate to say this, but I'm starting to write more and more within one chapter, and I'm actually getting it beta-ed by the wonderfully magnificent, talented, beautiful, and super duper snuggly Shad, who's not only inspired this chapter, but -me-. Much love and kudos and thanks go out to her.  
  
This chapter wouldn't be what it was without her. For example, the whole Yunis snippet was rushed and totally OOC at first. After she brought my attention to this, I deleted most of it and rewrote it from the ashes of the original; the rewrite (and published) snippet conveying the scene, in my author's opinion, -ten to ten thousand- times better than what it would've been had I not had her support. Again, -much- love to you, Shad. *tosses her some chocolate truffles*  
  
This chapter is relatively boring, when looking at it after reading, say, the Battle of Kilika, but this is my longest chapter yet (8100 words, not including the A/N), and it's got little to no violence in it! This is a personal accomplishment because I can see myself maturing as a writer. But, hey, Yunis galore at the end, eh? Expect much more of that in the future, plus a few other surprises in the next few chapters. With this new inspiration, and newfound love of detail, expect the next few battle scenes to be long, detailed (which means a possible R rating...NOOO ;.;), and very character centric. No large scale stuff, but the battle from a few character's point of view. I've seen too many authors write a war scene from "God's" perspective rather than the men actually participating. Anyway, I'll leave it at that.  
  
Again, thanks to Shad, rock-star, Artemis, Jave, and anyone else who has reviewed or continues to review. I appreciate it muchly and AtS wouldn't be what it is without you guys ^^ Onto Chapter 16! ~No One 


	16. Chapter 16: Seeds of Vengeance

Chapter 16: Seeds of Vengeance  
  
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" Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged." - Joseph Joubert  
  
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So, what, exactly was I doing, shuffling my way stealthily towards a large, floating, and boarding merchant's airship in the dead of the night? I honestly couldn't answer that question. But, I was there, and I was on a mission. Sure, it was a very poorly organized mission and I had little to no support...okay, I had -no- support. This was wholly my decision, even if I didn't know my reasons for doing it.  
  
I suppose you could say that Tidus' return had something to do with it. I'm not an attention hog and I wasn't jealous of his happiness with Yuna...but this wasn't, in my eyes, the time to be happy. This was the time to get things done, and since Yuna and her "posse" seemed so inclined to just drop the fact that we were in a conflict that could very well last for years, I decided to take it upon myself to take the reins. And if I had to sneak into an occupied city, I would.  
  
As I neared the docks, I began to actually feel the wind wrapping around and squeezing the energy from me. One bad thing about Besaid's weather was that during the day, you'd melt, and at night, you'd freeze. Thanks to the wind, the freezing factor was doubled, and here I was, wearing an all black get up given to me by none other than Lulu. Claimed she had made it for Chappu years ago. I was inclined to believe her since my wide shoulders had required her to quickly alter the hell out of the outfit's upper half. No, this wasn't a "sneaking suit." This was a thin, tight, and uncomfortable shirt and stocking combo. The only part of this entire outfit that was remotely comfortable was the footwear, which consisted of thin socks and my own combat boots.  
  
Another thing about this mission that totally bummed me: no weapons save a small dagger given to me by Gatta.  
  
"Good luck," he had said upon my leaving his office.  
  
Good luck indeed, asshole. I looked like a "Lost Boy" of Peter Pan fame, complete with knife and stockings! I'd have to procure some clothes upon my arrival in Luca. Stealing them didn't really bother me. What bothered me was choosing the right clothes. The inhabitants would clue me in, but I was still afraid of not being able to blend in. Say I picked some clothes from the Lucan equivalent of a Salvation Army Post and walked around dressed like a clown. That'd be like a kid in Brooklyn dressing in bright pink and donning a sign that read, "Fuck New York!"  
  
Upon reaching the wooden planks of the air ship's dock, I slowly inched along the side of the vessel. My eyes and ears were darting, focusing, refocusing, and flitting. No real guard was viewable, just that same overweight merchant handing one of his subordinates some boxes one at a time. I found some cover behind a stray box and prayed that this wasn't on their list of cargo. The minutes ticked by, my eyes following the movement of box after box being loaded into the ship's hold. Eventually, the merchant walked into the hold himself and I didn't see him again. The box I was behind wasn't needed, but that wouldn't help me. I'd have to make it into the hold without him or any of his workers seeing me.  
  
Gatta had told me that stealth wasn't an issue in this endeavor, but seeing as we hadn't really asked the merchant permission and I had no way of "persuading" him to cooperate, I decided to lay low and out of sight. This also worsened the consequences if I -was- caught on the ship, but even if I had to knock everyone but the pilots out, I'd find a way to keep my cover.  
  
I peeked my head over the box and noticed no one near the hold's bay doors, so I hunched on over and peered in. Not a soul in sight. I found a comfortable spot behind a wall of boxes and waited. It was all over except the waiting...and the eventual infiltration and recon thing. That'd come later, thankfully.  
  
--------------------  
  
With a groan, Fagan awoke to an empty bed.  
  
"Not surprising," he thought to himself.  
  
Elaine had not as much as said a word to him lately and he knew exactly why, but he wasn't going to move any ground for in his head, he hadn't done anything wrong. He also knew that Nyka had put some sort of ideas in her head that had upset her even more. Elaine's diehard support for the struggling religion was beautiful, but lately, it was tearing him from the love of his life. A few months ago, this wasn't an issue, for the two had romantically shared their love for each other, and Yevon. Yet, to Elaine, Yevon was everything, and to Fagan, Yevon was the deity he put his trust in. How could she love Fagan if she already loved someone? Yevon owned a larger part of her heart than Fagan did, and he knew that somewhere, somehow, that was wrong, in some form or fashion.  
  
Yevon was dead. This, Fagan knew. Yet he would never let go of the one thing that had always been constant in his life. Yevon had kept him from the deadly hands of Sin, and the deadly hands of ill-devoted life. But then, Elaine had come along, and she became his devotion.  
  
And now, it was crumbling beneath his fingertips and he couldn't stop it. Nyka, he knew, had some hand in it. If there was no Yevon, as most of Spira had come to realize since the defeat of Sin, then who else could be responsible? He'd find out, and tonight.  
  
Fagan slumped out of bed, quickly dressed, and bounded out of the door. His eyes met the temple and never left it as he hurriedly made his way towards the tall, castle-like capital of Bevelle.  
  
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Yeah, so waiting wasn't for me. I admit it. Being stuck in that hold was hell. A utter and complete hell that was worsened by the fact that every thirty or so minutes, that fat merchant would come down and eat some of his cargo.  
  
He was -eating- the stuff he would be selling later today. That makes about as much sense as me in a tutu. I would've knocked the hell out of him...but I wasn't going to risk my cover just to give him one for.  
  
The scene reminded me of one I had witnessed in school. I was volunteering for a fund raiser -my only reason being that the girl I had had a crush on for ages was going to be working on it too- and witnessed the teacher eating the doughnuts we were about to be selling. I even confronted the teacher about it, but was 'voted off' the fundraiser. After that, I decided to skip out on anything school related. I didn't want to be apart of a situation where the shit could hit the fan and the teacher would end up blaming the kids.  
  
School for me was something that I tolerated. I was one of the kids who always sat in the back of class, kept to himself, and was always writing poetry. And I only wrote to release pent up feelings. Didn't really have anyone to release to. I wasn't a dance type either. I guess I never saw the appeal in gathering in a hot, stinky gym in formal wear and standing or shuffling around. Then came college...where I was essentially doing the same thing. The only difference there was I was reporting back to barracks instead of a dorm when I was done with classes.  
  
I yawned and leaned back against the wall behind me. Soon, I found myself slowly drifting to sleep. Not the wisest choice for an infiltrating soldier, but hey, I figured the merchant would be too busy stuffing his face to worry about intruders.  
  
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Fagan made his way up the long steps to the fifth-storey office Nyka inhabited. The stone staircase itself was adorned with thick, red carpeting, and the obligatory vine-like banister decorations. Such a wonderfully rich palace for a humble religion, Fagan thought.  
  
Upon reaching the foyer, two machina-armed guards stopped him and asked his business. Fagan only replied, "To see Nyka."  
  
"Nyka's busy," one stressed.  
  
The other hunched his shoulders forward and shifted his gun, trying to show Fagan that he should back away. This only made Fagan angrier and he said firmly, "I want to see Nyka."  
  
"Look, sir. Nyka's busy. He's not ready to see anyone."  
  
Fagan growled. "Oh, so you have to have an appointment to see a priest now?"  
  
The two men looked to each other and started to advance on Fagan. Thanks to his small frame and quick movements, he squeezed through the men and violently opened the double-doors leading into Nyka's office.  
  
Due to his already angered state, Fagan didn't even see Nyka before yelling, "Nyka, I've got to talk to you."  
  
Hearing no intelligible answer, he yelled again. As his anger calmed to a dull curiosity, he finally focused his eyes on the center of the room. What he saw enraged him, and he immediately dove for the naked, bent form belonging to Nyka. Instead of making contact with the Maester, he hit the floor and startled the woman he had fallen next too. And he knew who the woman was, but his brain and heart failed to recognize her.  
  
Nyka's voice, which was now altered a bit, yelled out for the guards, who immediately came rushing in. They ignored the scene in front of them and looked to Nyka for orders.  
  
A stunned Fagan tried to stand, but, after a nod from Nyka, was hit in the forehead by the butt of one of the guard's rifles. The woman next to him screamed loudly, and with his skull feeling as if it's been cracked, Fagan's brain finally recognized the woman as his wife.  
  
Nyka's tone bit into the air and ruthless orders were given. Fagan couldn't really make out the words, for the ringing in his ears was drowning out all but a little bit of sound. His eyes were riddled with a fuzzy form of double vision. Once again, he tried to push himself up, but only felt a punch connecting with his thigh. The leg was now totally useless, save for causing Fagan an unimaginable amount of pain. A hand reached down to rub the sore spot, only to become covered in a warm liquid. It was then Fagan knew he'd been shot by the machina.  
  
Fagan's other leg tried to curl, it's foot coming flat against the floor, and all the while he grunted and groaned from the effort. Just as the leg started to get a little bit of leverage, another punching sensation hit Fagan just below the knee. Except this sensation was much more painful. The bullet had shattered most of the bone and cartilage that resided in his knee. Fagan growled and lay back, feeling his head hit the floor underneath him.  
  
Somehow, this seemed a fitting end to a botched journey. Fagan had always thought it would be his religion that would kill him. It had all begun with his wife and blossomed into this, his final moments. His vision was slowly blacking out and he could scarcely hear anything. Death was fast approaching as his back became soaked with the blood pouring from his wounds. With a last bit of strength, he grabbed his wife's hand and squeezed. Their eyes met in a gaze of both shock and unending love.  
  
Every single event they had ever been through, from their first meeting in school to their wedding, flashed in their collective view. In this, their final moment, they were sharing messages of everlasting love and eternal life on the Farplane. But, Fagan knew better. The Farplane was a place of torment. That alone was the reason some spirits turned into 'fiends.' Those spirits simply did not want to go to a place where the only solace you are offered is a bird's eye view of a society you can never return to.  
  
Now, Fagan knew why so many desperately avoided the Farplane and instead wandered Spira as unsent beings. He knew the exact reason: unfinished business. Be it saying goodbye to loved ones, or seeking revenge, the reason was still the same. The spirit wasn't finished on Spira, and wouldn't accept their place in the Farplane until they were through. Despite the comforting and loving gaze he was sharing with his wife, he knew that he wouldn't be with her when she arrived in the Farplane.  
  
Fagan, however, wasn't going to just seek revenge. No, Fagan's mission, he determined as he faintly heard Nyka bark the final orders to his guards, was going to be one of vengeance. This was going to be a mission that would avenge every single crime committed by Nyka and his underlings and a mission that would extend beyond the war and beyond the grave.  
  
With a quick turn of his head, Fagan caught a final glimpse of the leader known as 'Nyka.' The aging bearded man was behind his desk, cackling at the scene playing out before him. It was then that Fagan got a glimpse of the 'real' Nyka. Fagan chalked it up to his mind's state, but he secretly knew what he had seen was true. And the fact that no one, not even Nyka's aide, knew of the leader's past solidified his vision. Nyka had appeared shortly after the defeat of Sin as a full supporter of Yevon. Nyka led the movement to start the "New Yevon" group and forwarded money to the Youth Alliance and Young People's Group, concreting the two teen groups' support of the New Yevon faction. Nyka had moved like a plague through Bevelle and quickly climbed the ladder of power. Fagan had always been curious over the leader's history, but at that single glance, he was all knowing on the history of the man known only as 'Nyka,' and it fueled his anger that much more.  
  
Fagan's eyes returned to his wife's and he squeezed her hand for the last time. With a whispered 'I love you,' two loud bangs, and two bright flashes, two young lives were ended by the very same religion they had grown up loving.  
  
--------------------  
  
I hadn't a clue what time it was. The hold didn't have any portholes in it; therefore, I couldn't really tell if it was day or night. My hands balled into fists and I rubbed the sleep from my eyes while my brain continued to try to make sense of the disorientation a nap brought on.  
  
Slowly, I stood, hearing my leg and back joints popping like wildfire. I had to have been there for more than just a few minutes. I reached towards the ceiling and yawned. Even after...however long I had been in this hold, I hadn't a clue why exactly I was doing this. This wasn't a war that I -had- to be in. This wasn't a conflict where I was being forced to go somewhere. Luca wasn't Columbia. I didn't have seven other guys looking out for me and I didn't have instant air support. As a matter of fact, I didn't even have any frigging weapons. All I had was a gay little 'dagger' and the black, uncomfortable as hell tights. It wasn't like I was going into a situation where I had the advantage. This 'mission' was more or less a kid sticking his head under a lawnmower. I'd either die trying, or, if I got extremely lucky, make it out alive. But my hopes weren't high. What can one man do against an army? Not much.  
  
I had learned a long time ago that life wasn't like a computer game. There was no continues, no health bars, no endless supply of bullets, and no save points for me to utilize. All I could rely on was my training and stamina. Knowing that made it an even harder mission. Physiologically, I was looking at a real nightmare. Physically, I was looking at pure torture. Emotionally I was looking at...a damn fun time. I wasn't afraid to admit that dangerous situations excited me. That was all apart of being a soldier. If you couldn't crack a joke while bullets were whizzing by your head, you wouldn't make it in -any- military force. Sick, yes, but very plausible and very effective. If you take the fear out of war, you take the fear out of the man, and more bodies are dropped, leading to more ground gained. Desensitization, therefore, is an important tool in training troops.  
  
And there I was, standing behind some cargo, trying to desensitize myself from the boredom of having to wait for the damned ship to make it to Luca. Thankfully, the airship creaked and groaned as it seemed to begin its descent. It was only a few minutes later when people started filling the hold, boxes started moving, and I started to get a tad bit nervous.  
  
--------------------  
  
Eimour awoke to the prodding fingers of her son.  
  
"You're gonna be late, mommy," young Gary said.  
  
Eimour slowly sat up in bed and looked towards the clock just above her mirror. Through her newly awoken daze, she could scarcely make out the time. But she did get the gist of what her son had told her. Quickly, she scampered off to her small dresser, pulled out a skirt and blouse, changed and was out of the door with Gary in her arms. She surely didn't want to be late for her first full day of work, but she was having her doubts as she pushed through the double doors and met the dark haze of early morning.  
  
The owner of the pub had told her that working early morning to afternoon would be a better shift to work, as long as she didn't mind tending to the Yevonites. Of course, Eimour would work whenever he told her to. The job was going to pay well and she'd do just about anything to keep it.  
  
Her feet found the sidewalk and she bounded towards the pub. Now, while Eimour usually practiced good common sense and was quite smart, she reflexively tried to open the pub's locked front double doors. She caught on quickly, though, and darted down the alleyway between the inn and pub, finding the kitchen entrance. After a few knocks, the owner of the pub opened the door and greeted them with a smile.  
  
"Morning," Eimour said, returning the older man's smile.  
  
The owner nodded, keeping his smile, and motioned toward Gary. "I'll take him on a tour of the place while you get ready back here."  
  
Eimour smiled and nodded, setting Gary down. The owner took Gary's hand and led him off to the front of the pub. Eimour quickly donned her apron and came around to the front of the bar, watching the old man show her son every nook and cranny of the seating area. She closed her eyes and smiled and dreamt, despite herself, that the owner was her father and he was giving his grandson an important lesson.  
  
The knowledge that Gary would more than likely grow up without any male figurehead in his life ate away at Eimour's soul like a plague. Even with her hatred towards men, she couldn't help but long for one, if only to give Gary the other half of the parenting equation.  
  
Eimour's smile quickly faded at the thought of her son never having a father figure. With a sigh, she pressed herself off of the bar and met the owner and Gary on their way back behind the bar.  
  
"Mighty fine lad you've got here, dear," the owner complimented.  
  
Eimour's smile returned as she took Gary's hand. "Yes he is."  
  
Gary turned a shade of red and urged his mother towards the kitchen.  
  
The owner laughed. "As long as he doesn't drink any of the ale, he can do as he pleases."  
  
With that, Eimour released her son's hand and the young child bounded off for the kitchen to more than likely sample some of what the cook was preparing. The older man nodded to the doors and said, "We're open now. All you have to do is take orders and bring orders. And since most of the morning crowd is soldiers and businessmen, the most common order will be ale and more ale. Some may order some of our famous dumplings; others may order some nuts, while others may just order some water. Either way, this shouldn't be too hard on you. If you're swamped, just call me from my office and I'll come running, ok?"  
  
Eimour nodded and looked to the doors just in time to see the first customers of the day trudge in.  
  
--------------------  
  
Tidus shot up in his bed, covers flying off of him as he gasped from breath. Sweat rivulets covered his entire body, his hair clung to his face, and he quickly removed his soaked t-shirt. His mind raced to make sense of the nightmare he had just escaped. Tidus' memory could only recall bits and pieces of the dream, and those bits and pieces were more or less the worst parts. The images of two lovers, lying on the ground, bleeding, with bullet holes in their heads were burnt in his vision and he couldn't shake them away. A deep and lasting sadness came over him as he focused on the scene. It was when he saw their hands intertwined that fear struck him. A fit of trembles hit him as his mind subconsciously placed Yuna and him in the two lovers' place.  
  
For the life of him, Tidus couldn't understand why he was having visions of total strangers. He did seem to get a message out of them though and quietly removed himself from his bed. Hunching forward, he slinked his way onto Besaid's main path, using the merchants' carts for cover. Tidus imagined that if anyone found him sneaking around outside, he'd have a bit of explaining to do. Slowly but surely, he made his way to Besaid Temple's entrance hall. Not a soul was in sight, and that eased Tidus' mind just a tad bit. Silently he tiptoed across the entrance hall's slick floor and soon found himself in front of a thick, wooden door. The only worry crossing his mind as he eased the door open was if he had the correct room or not. His question was answered as he gazed upon Yuna's sleeping form.  
  
Tidus stood in the doorway for quite some time, just staring at the woman he loved as she slept. It was amazing to him how she was always beautiful, even lying in bed, sans makeup. True love had found him, and he was beginning to understand what happened to his mother after his father was gone. He imagined the same thing happened to Yuna, in a way. Of course, she'd never own up to it in front of him. A bit of life had left both of them when they parted, and what made it so bittersweet was the fact that neither of them could be honest enough to tell the other that they had lost hope.  
  
Yuna lay on her back, her face bathed in the iridescent light of a descending moon. Her silken brown hair was a shade or two brighter in the moonlight, and Tidus smiled upon making that observation. He bent forward and softly brushed a few locks from her face with a smile, his lower half softly coming to rest on the empty side of the bed. His eyes gazed at her peaceful countenance as his hand continued to stroke her hair. Tidus' thoughts reverted to his first romantic contact with the former Summoner. Macalania seemed years ago, and in truth it was, but it didn't feel like three to Tidus. To him, it felt close to fifty or more.  
  
After a few minutes, Tidus sighed and eased up, but to his surprise, a soft and tiny hand gripped his elbow.  
  
"Don't go," said Yuna in a surprisingly sober tone.  
  
Tidus turned and met with his lover's gaze. "Er...sorry...didn't know you were awake."  
  
She smiled dreamily at him and lightly scratched along his lower arm. "It's ok. I didn't know that I'd wake up to such a comforting feeling."  
  
Tidus blushed, causing a soft chuckle to escape her.  
  
"May I ask why you don't have a shirt on?" she asked with a slightly mischievous smirk.  
  
Again, he blushed and looked down. "I had a nightmare."  
  
She scooted forward and put her hands on his hips, pulling him down into an embrace. He shifted slightly to get comfortable, on arm going around her shoulders, the other extending so that his hand could grasp one of her own. She squeezed his hand gently.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
He cocked a smile and placed a kiss on the bridge of her nose. "Don't be sorry for something you didn't do. It...it just scared me. I had to come here and make sure that you were here. Ya know, that you were real and able to be touched."  
  
She sighed softly. "Your time away must've been horrible."  
  
He put a fingertip to her lips and placed his forehead against her own. "Shh, let's not talk about that. I don't want you worrying over the past. I stood and watched you sleep for a while, Yuna, and while I did, I thought of how the two of us would never tell each other the truth of what we felt while we were separated."  
  
"I'd tell you anything," she affirmed.  
  
He shook is head. "You don't have to tell me, because I already know. And I'd tell you anything too...it's just that I can't admit to you that...I was weak. I...lost...I lost hope over time, Yuna, and it makes me feel so damned ashamed."  
  
One of her palms rose and softly stroked his cheek. "Tidus...don't...The truth is...I lost hope too. I just couldn't convince myself that you'd come back. No matter how much I wanted you to...I just couldn't see it happening."  
  
"I don't know how it happened, but it did, and that's all that matters, right?"  
  
She nodded meekly in response.  
  
He wrapped his arms tight around her shoulders and rested his cheek into her hair. She smiled and nuzzled into the nape of his neck.  
  
"I'm just so glad I have you back," she said as Tidus felt a tear come into contact with his collarbone.  
  
In response, he brought up a hand and gently stroked the back of her head, humming softly to her a tune that had connected them so long ago.  
  
"The Hymn of the Fayth," she recalled aloud. "It's been so long..."  
  
He continued the hum as she listened intently, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Soon, she felt as if she was going to fall asleep. Tidus seemed to sense this and ended his hum. Yuna shifted slightly and lightly kissed his chin.  
  
Tidus smiled and returned the kiss to her forehead. "Yuna?"  
  
"Yes," she replied, her voice thick with content.  
  
"Do you think...possibly...that my coming back may have something to do with what Spira's going through?"  
  
Yuna stayed silent for a moment, as if she was thinking about his question for the very first time. "I honestly...don't know. I've not had that much time to really think about it." She locked her eyes to his own and added with a smile, "It may have something to do with a lonely girl wishing and wishing every day that the love of her life would return."  
  
He returned the smile and planted a feather-like kiss to her lips. "It may have also had something to do with a lonely boy wishing and wishing every day that he could return to the girl of his dreams ASAP."  
  
With that, he planted another kiss to her lips. The two lovers sat in silence a moment, listening to one another's heartbeat as time ticked by. Not a worry was on their minds as they sat on the bed in an infallible embrace. Nothing was going to separate them, ever. Tidus had returned and planned on staying. But something was eating away at him, and he couldn't keep it silent any longer.  
  
"Yuna...?"  
  
She answered with a soft 'mmhmm?' that he felt more in his chest than actually heard.  
  
"Is anyone going to clue me in on all that's happened with this 'war' everyone's talking about?"  
  
As soon as his question had left his throat, Tidus could feel his love sigh silently. After a moment or two she answered.  
  
"I honestly didn't want to worry you about it-"  
  
"Yuna...I already worry about it. If it bothers you, it bothers me."  
  
She nodded, understanding that feeling very well. "Well...I suppose Gatta could fill you in. He's seen the most combat...besides Weston."  
  
"Speaking of Weston...what's his story? I couldn't gather much in the tent yesterday."  
  
Yuna looked ahead as if trying to recall some long lost piece of information. "It's been so long, I've nearly forgotten that he's not from this world..."  
  
Tidus laughed and rubbed his nose against hers. "I could tell that just by looking at him. I mean, has he said much about his past? How he got here?"  
  
Yuna thought for a moment. "Not really...at least not to me. Gatta probably knows more about him than anyone. They seem to be good friends."  
  
"Soldiers in arms together, stick together," Tidus observed. "Looks like Gatta and I are going to be having a long talk today."  
  
Yuna nodded and snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his arms a bit tighter around her waist, planting soft kisses into her hair.  
  
He smirked and said aloud, "Think I should make a habit out of this?"  
  
She let out a laugh and tapped the tip of his nose. "I don't know. You sneaking into my room shirtless will eventually get around the village, and you know how things get blown up in small communities."  
  
He smirked and ruffled her hair. "Actually, I don't. I was the one who lived in Zanarkand, remember?"  
  
With that, he cackled and she lightly punched his stomach in response to the sarcasm.  
  
"You know what I mean," she said after grabbing a pillow and bopping him with it.  
  
"Oh, this means war!" he exclaimed and grabbed one of her other pillows. Soon, the feathers were flying and the two lovers were laughing quite loudly as they chased each other around the room.  
  
Tidus had never thought that happiness could come in the form of such a childish activity, but honestly, he had never been happier in his life. And what really made him look to the future with a smile was that despite the fact that while both of them were three years older, wiser, and more responsible, they could still have a fun time. The one thing Tidus hated was stiff, overly mature young people who thought that the fun things in life stopped after the teen years were gone.  
  
With one last bonk in the head by way of Yuna's pillow, Tidus collapsed on the bed, laughing and gasping for breath. Yuna fell beside her love, doing the very same. And the two lovers stayed there for a little while, letting the giggles run dry and their chests' movements slow. When they had both caught their breath, Tidus turned to Yuna and whispered, "I love you."  
  
With a warm smile, Yuna replied with, "I love you, too."  
  
And they both meant it with all they were worth.  
  
--------------------  
  
Running is always fun. Especially when you've got three rather large dockworkers chasing after you through a crowded marketplace. So, yeah, I was discovered. The look on the worker's face that discovered me was rather amusing. When I laughed, I think I caught him off guard, but I wasn't really sure, because I was running shortly after that. Luckily, I was able to find a clothing shop to duck into. Apparently, the shop's owner was out, so I was able to "procure" a gray, hooded cloak and some thin, baggy, and gray pants without any trouble. I emerged a new man. No longer was I a stowaway wearing black tights; I was now a guy in a cloak. Not a big change, but enough to keep those dockworkers off of my tail for a little while.  
  
Sans pursuers, I then took the time to actually look around. The shop was adjacent to a large marketplace that opened up to the docks and the stadium. Yevonite guard posts were probably placed every hundred feet apart from each other. Ridiculous, really, but I could understand the Yevonites' fears. That'd just leave Gatta and I more soldiers to take care of, which we were very capable of doing.  
  
I didn't really see much of a problem for getting Luca back, especially with the backing of the Al Bhed. The only problem I saw was all the civilians...they were sitting ducks. Be it Yevonite or Crusader fire, I knew a few of them were going to go down before it was all said and done.  
  
I wondered if anyone in Yuna's little camp knew just what they were getting into with a 'liberation' mission. As evidenced in the best -and worst- campaigns in military history, civilian deaths become a big issue with many members of society, notably those who are against military action.  
  
The market area soon materialized into a darker, more ancient looking business district. With eateries and general stores lining the streets and guard posts within shouting distance of each other, I could sense that this would be a tough fighting ground. The inns and hotels were probably full of soldiers waiting to snipe some Crusaders.  
  
As I walked along, my mind absorbing anything and everything, I grew aware of an incessant nagging at the back of my throat. While many would just chalk this up to thirst, I immediately thought back to my high school prom, where I had had this exact same nagging.  
  
I was never much of a romantic guy. Not that I couldn't be...romantic. It was just I never saw a need for it, especially in light of all the shitty relationships my fellow classmates were in. And I was never, ever a dance sort of guy. Standing around and watching the couples gyrate to shitty rap and disco songs wasn't my type of entertainment. I was more of the heavy metal guy who'd rather listen to a song that resembled the sounds of a chaotic and bloody war than some white guy with no rhythm talking quickly into a microphone. Seriously, the height of originality in rap music was "Money, hoes, and kickin' whitey's ass" being repeated dozens of times with intermittent grunts and hollers while some over-sampled and over-used beat played in the background. That couldn't possibly be classified as music. Anyone in their right mind would take the aural chaos that was Slayer over some mile-a-minute, monotonous, and bland and over-paid rap group. Yeah, so I was biased. Anyway, to put it bluntly, I was stuck, wearing a penguin suit, in a loud, hot gym. The nagging at the back of my throat then wasn't thirst, but my mild case of 'drink everything in sigh' syndrome. Needless to say, I woke up in a car on the side of the interstate with a killer headache.  
  
My first, and last, binge of alcohol had left me with about as much dignity as given to a guy caught masturbating. But, when I got that nagging, I had to quickly feed that little monster in my throat some form of rotting liquid to keep it down. I wasn't about to get shit faced again, especially on a mission.  
  
I sighted a large, one-storey building with a properly proportioned sign that simply read 'Pub.' A quick stop in there wouldn't jeopardize anything, or so I thought...  
  
--------------------  
  
The pub was quite busy, but somehow, Eimour was able to keep up. Most of the tables were taken up. The only empty areas were a couple of booths in the back. The pub was full of idle chatter, most of it coming from the mumbling mouths of Yevonite soldiers. A few "regulars" from the neighborhood had come in and commended on Eimour's friendly and speedy service. The owner of the pub knew each of these "regulars" by name and thanked each of them personally for their comments. The soldiers had been a little less appealing. Eimour couldn't count using her fingers how many times she had been goosed by the half-asleep or half-drunk soldiers. She picked up a trend on the men after about an hour or so of serving then: ale was obviously this army's weakness. For some reason, it was acceptable for the soldiers to drink (for many officers were drinking along side them) and it almost seemed to be the "in" thing to do. Eimour could sense a lot of peer pressure in the group, namely noticing young soldiers hesitating before taking a drink of the heavy liquid.  
  
Eimour didn't really see the appeal of a man who drank. The smell alone could kill any attraction, never mind the drunken stupor most drinking men got into time after time. Social drinking seemed to her more of an addiction than activity. But a job was a job and if Eimour had to endure a few gooses from drunken soldiers, she would. Getting them drunk was more or less keeping them from being sharp and operational in the field.  
  
While Eimour tried not to mind the soldiers, she couldn't help but be uncomfortable around them. Here were men being led by a tyrant hungry on world domination. 'How dense do you have to be to follow a madman,' she asked herself. Of course, Nyka hadn't kept a very strong noose on Luca, but just the idea that he "owned" Luca didn't help make Eimour any more comfortable around the soldiers. These were men who had the consent to kill anyone who opposed Nyka, be they man, woman, or child. These men, outside of their deplorable drinking habits, mercilessly killed many Lucans just for thinking differently. These weren't the men you invited into your home with a smile and a bit of tea. These were the men you cowered in fear from. And why Gary was running around the main room, Eimour didn't know.  
  
Eimour looked on as her son ran around to each table, jumping and hollering at the soldiers. Some of them seemed amused by the young boy's energetic yelping while others seemed very annoyed.  
  
Eimour rushed out to the table Gary was currently at and overheard a soldier belt out a "No." Now officially scared, she grabbed for Gary only to see him run off towards the front doors.  
  
"Gary!" she yelled.  
  
The three and a half foot young boy ran face first into the legs of a tall and wide cloaked individual. Gary was easily dwarfed by this cloaked person, who Eimour quickly surmised was male, or so she hoped.  
  
The man stopped and looked down to Eimour's son. Eimour herself was both worried and fighting her motherly urge to rip the man's head clean off his shoulders. As fast and hyper as he could, Gary yelled, "Are you my daddy? Daddy's a soldier and he's supposed to come back to me and mommy!"  
  
The tall figure only stood there a moment before slowly bending down. Eimour made a move towards the man, ready to pounce, but he only held Gary up high and laughed.  
  
The man's voice was gruff, obviously used to yelling, or smoking, or both. Eimour was slightly taken aback.  
  
"Nope. I'm not your daddy kid. Sorry." The man laughed again and set Gary down, ruffling the young boy's hair.  
  
A still shocked Eimour blinked a few times, her mind utterly confused from the conclusion of what she thought would be a job-ending battle for her son's life. Instead the tall man just stood there, his cloaked head staring directly at her, as if waiting for something.  
  
Finally, after catching her breath, Eimour timidly asked, "May I help you?"  
  
"Do you have any beer," asked the gruff voice.  
  
"Um...excuse me?"  
  
"Beer," the voice repeated.  
  
"I don't think so...We have ale and water...and dumplings."  
  
A sigh escaped the cloak's hood and the man replied, "Water then...that ale stuff is way too heavy for me."  
  
"Please have a seat," she said, motioning towards one of the open booths. Eimour then nodded and left for the bar, leaving him behind to find the seat.  
  
--------------------  
  
So there I sat, in a pub filled to the brim with Yevonite soldiers, the nagging in my throat getting even worse. I was hoping the water would curtail my inhuman thirst for at least a little while.  
  
I turned my head and watched the kid from behind the security of my hood. Cute little guy, but I wondered where his mother was. Not a good place for a little bundle of joy to be in, really. Pubs harbor the backbone of underground society: drunkards, criminals, and politicians. But having these soldiers here was even worse. Soldiers under the influence aren't fun guys to be around. I should know...had a nice experience in Columbia with a shit-faced corporal who decided it'd be fun to open fire on a group of spec- ops boys. To this day, they probably haven't found all the pieces of him.  
  
The dark-haired waitress returned with my water and sat it down in front of me. I reached into my newly acquired coat and pulled out a few Gil. She looked at me as if I was either insane, or an idiot. Either way, it wasn't a welcoming look.  
  
"Is there a problem?" I asked as I laid down the money.  
  
"You aren't trying to pay for this are you?" she asked accusingly.  
  
"Water's free here?"  
  
"Of course..." she replied, cocking an eyebrow.  
  
I mumbled a bit and put the Gil away. I then took a sip of the water, and surprisingly, it was cool and refreshing. I wasn't used to clean and cold water that didn't come in some special bottle with a French name.  
  
I started to think aloud. "Water like this costs quite a bit where I'm from."  
  
"Where are you from?" she asked.  
  
I knew I had set myself up for that one. Hurriedly, I cleared my throat and grunted, "Besaid."  
  
"Ah," she said.  
  
I sat there looking at her for the next few moments, trying to tell if she was either trying to recognize me, or trying to burn a hole through me with her laser vision. Then, I took a look behind the bar and saw an aging man looking towards my table. What was I, the star attraction at a zoo?  
  
After a few more moments of awkward silence, I pulled the hood from over my head and cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"Curious no longer?" I asked, trying my best not to sound annoyed or sarcastic.  
  
She seemed to blink out of her little staring trance and looked my face over a few times. This, of course, made me uneasy and my instincts jumped into overdrive.  
  
Finally, I asked in a not so pleasant voice, "This water will do. Thank you."  
  
She got the message and left to tend to another table.  
  
I downed the rest of my water in one quick shot and began to stand up. I stopped however, when my selective hearing picked out something I didn't quite like.  
  
"Someone get this kid away from me. I'm about to shoot the bastard."  
  
My eyes locked to a scene that I had known was coming. Much like during my goal in the Blitzball tournament, my body took over and everything blurred. Soon, the kid was in my arms and my legs were knocking over a Yevonite that had just aimed his rifle at the boy. The waitress came rushing forward and I handed the kid to her. Apparently, she was the mother, for as soon as she got him secure in her arms, she ran off to the back of the pub with the old guy I had noticed earlier. I felt like screaming 'Thanks for the support!'  
  
And my one heroic act of the day left me surrounded by twenty or so pissed off Yevonites. I stood up and brushed myself off. The cloak was half- hanging off of my shoulders, so I just took it off, revealing the very odd- looking stocking-shirt combo. Probably not a good idea, but if I was going to be doing some hand-to-hand, I'd need some mobility.  
  
What had always amused me about movies and video games was how the hero could be wearing a ten-ton jacket or trench coat and not have any limits on his physical ability. This was especially true in those good cop/bad cop movies. Freedom of movement was crucial in winning fights. Of course, that didn't matter much if there was twenty of them, and one of you.  
  
I think I took my blows like a man. I didn't cry or yelp. Just took it like a good little trooper. Of course, my body didn't like me very much for allowing the soldiers to beat the living piss out of me. I remember connecting a few punches, but when the rifle-butts started flying, I was out for the count, if not more.  
  
The last thing I remember before the darkness that is unconsciousness took over my mind was my nose making contact with the concrete sidewalk outside.  
  
--------------------  
  
Tidus walked along the waterfall path slowly, thanks to the red- haired lummox in front of him.  
  
"Mind picking up the pace, Wakka?"  
  
Wakka stopped and turned around. "S'not like that camp is goin' anywhere, bud."  
  
"I know, but I'd like to be able to get back before -lunch-!"  
  
"Hey, now. It's only seven in the mornin', ya?"  
  
Tidus huffed a bit and nodded. "Yeah, yeah."  
  
The two walked in silence for a little while, Wakka slowly leading while Tidus took in the growth of the village and its surrounding jungle. To Tidus, it was all new, as it would be with a newborn child. In away, Tidus thought to himself, he was newborn. He didn't want to label himself 'born-again' for that phrase had caused some trouble a few thousand years ago in Zanarkand. That huge time gap still got to him a little.  
  
Tidus asked rather out of the blue, "What's your take on this war, Wakka?"  
  
Wakka stopped walking, shrugged, and then continued his trek. "I dunno, really. Me an' Lu have been in our on world lately. Ya know how that is, right?"  
  
Tidus laughed. "Of course, Wakka. I understand...what I meant was...how do you feel about it personally?"  
  
Again, Wakka shrugged. "I hate that people are dyin', but if we have to kill to protect peace...I think it has to be done."  
  
Tidus nodded to himself and said no more.  
  
Soon, the two found themselves standing in a cleared out patch of jungle where a long and hastily built one-story building stood along with an obstacle course and what looked to be a training area. Uniformed Crusaders were standing around everywhere. Some looked to be mingling while others were obviously guards.  
  
As they neared the door, Wakka nodded to the guards posted in front of it and they let the two pass. What surprised Tidus was how none of the soldiers seemed to really notice that he was there. Odd, seeing as Tidus had just recently returned from the dead.  
  
Wakka opened the thin wooden door to the complex and entered a small reception area. Tidus followed in suit and looked the uniform area over. It wasn't the lodge he had known a few years ago. This building resembled a stiff doctor's office to Tidus. He shrugged and Wakka tapped on the desk in the center of the room. A receptionist in Crusader uniform came up from under the desk, hands full of some sort of wire material.  
  
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.  
  
Wakka nodded and pointed to a door in the back of the room. "Gatta in?"  
  
"Yeah," came the blunt answer.  
  
"Can we see him?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Wakka looked at the soldier with his head cocked as if waiting for the young man to do something. That something never came and while Wakka continued to simply stand there, Tidus snuck off into the room in the back. Gatta was standing in the back of the small office looking out of a rather big window. The window's viewing area was of the obstacle course and training ground. Tidus blinked a few times and looked about the room.  
  
Gatta's office was sparsely decorated. The only medal visible was his induction medal presented to him years ago when he joined the Crusaders. There was no sign of rank or seniority. The desk was piled a mile high with paper work and there were balls of crumpled paper everywhere along one side of the room. A few maps could be jutting out from the pile on his desk along with some pin-markers and pencils.  
  
Tidus cleared his throat and Gatta turned around. Yet again, Tidus was surprised at how everyone, including Gatta, took his reappearance as if it were natural.  
  
"Yes," replied a slightly older and weary looking Gatta.  
  
"I've come to talk to you about-"  
  
"The war, yes," Gatta interrupted. He held up a rectangular device that looked slightly out of place. Gatta seemed to notice Tidus' confusion and explained, "A communication device from the Al Bhed. They've given us weaponry and tools to aid us in the conflict. Yuna has her own communication and told me you were coming before hand."  
  
Tidus guessed that the war was so heavy on many people's mind that they didn't have time to think about much else. "Ah. Cool."  
  
Gatta's disinterested nod did nothing to soothe Tidus' worry that this wasn't the same Gatta that he had left three or so years ago.  
  
Gatta continued. "So you want to know about the war? Well, I'd suggest you have a seat. This could go on for a while."  
  
Tidus nodded and did as Gatta had suggested, setting himself down in a small wicker chair in front of the likewise small and cluttered desk. Gatta followed suit and sat down in his own wicker seat on the opposite side of the desk. He folded his hands on a clear spot on the desk and leaned forward.  
  
"Should I start from the beginning?"  
  
"That's usually the best place to start."  
  
Gatta nodded and didn't bother noticing the goofy sarcasm implied by that statement. "Alright. You do know this is only one point of view in millions, right?"  
  
"Yeah, but you've apparently seen all the action."  
  
Gatta's stern look only tightened as he replied curtly, "Not -all-."  
  
Tidus nodded and waited for him to begin.  
  
"You want the military version or the layman's version?"  
  
"Whatever you want," Tidus replied.  
  
Gatta nodded. "After you...'left,' Yuna and the others had to pick up the pieces of a shattered civilization and form some sort of ruling body to keep Spira in peace. As you can imagine, doing that was a task six people really couldn't handle. So, a meeting was held in Bevelle on how exactly Spira should be governed. Many, including Yuna, believed the people should be free to choose their own form of government. Therefore, councils were formed in each city and town, and a senate was to be held every six months. The councils' sizes were based on population, so Luca and Bevelle were to have the largest. The council members were going to be voted on by the people, so a weeding process of candidates had to commence."  
  
Gatta noticed that Tidus trying to pay attention and decided to shorten his story a little.  
  
"Getting this stuff together took a year. Bevelle ended up with the largest council, run by a newcomer in the ranks of the fledgling Yevonite belief system named Nyka. Of course, he's a big mystery because no one really knows where he came from. Some claim he's the messiah while others believe he's a crock. Either way, he snaked his way into office by a landslide. Meanwhile, Yuna's become some sort of celebrity and everyone wants to see her. Including the Young People's Group and Youth Alliance, two teenager religious sects sheltered by the New Yevon movement, which Nyka spearheaded. Before you know it, half of Bevelle is Yevonite...again."  
  
"So Nyka's trying to convert everyone in Spira with military force?" Tidus asked, leaning forward in his chair.  
  
Gatta held up his hand. "Let me finish, damn it."  
  
Tidus nodded and sat back in his chair.  
  
"Enter Post-Sin Year Two. Yuna's trying to get everyone off her back, Rikku's moved back to Bikanel to help rebuild Home and I'm stuck with heading up the Besaid branch of the Crusaders. The Crusaders and I pretty much get rid of all the remaining fiends in the area and news-spheres from all over report that Sinspawn is no longer a threat. The Crusaders sort of become the military police for Spira, with branches in all cities."  
  
Tidus once again leaned forward. "So you mean to tell me that the Crusaders became the world's army?"  
  
Gatta shrugged. "Wasn't an army anymore. It was more or less a peacekeeping force. Not even Bevelle seemed to have a need for an army. Until..."  
  
"Nyka wanted more power," Tidus finished.  
  
"Yup. After begging Yuna for rights to land and nation proposals and getting rejected by Yuna's 'let's be peaceful together,' Nyka finally got fed up enough to form his own army. And how did he do this? He used a perfect opportunity. But I'm getting ahead of myself."  
  
"Weston comes into play, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I've kinda skipped the majority of the second Post Sin year, but there's really not much to tell. Weston pops up, or should I say plops down, and confuses the hell out of us all. He's not even from this -world-. We're talking a totally alien guy here."  
  
Tidus hmmed to himself. "But him being an...'alien' is just you speculating, right? He could be from the past, just like me, couldn't he?"  
  
"Of course, and I'm not ruling that out...but he's just not like anyone I've ever met, even you."  
  
Tidus nodded.  
  
Gatta continued, "Anyway, Weston shows up, and then the fun ensues. He bullies a Bevelle council member. Mousy little guy by the name of Fagan. Then he participates in a blitzball tournament, and ultimately saves Yuna's life."  
  
"Saves her life?" Tidus asked, almost jumping from his chair.  
  
"Yeah. Two 'Crusader' guards tried to kill her. Weston proved that he was a soldier then and there. In two seconds, one of the soldiers had choked to death on his own collapsed windpipe and the other was given a bullet through the head by his own rifle. I've never heard of anything like that, ever. Eventually, word came around that Nyka was going to push his newly formed army on Kilika to sort of scare Yuna into accepting his plans for a Yevonite nation. Of course, before this, most of the Crusader force moved to Besaid in support of Yuna. And by most, I really mean half. A percentage of the other half sided with Nyka while the remaining few just kinda dropped out of sight. But back to Kilika. The Yevonites made their push, but were stopped by our little peace force that we had set up in town upon hearing of their invasion attempt. Weston was there and performed-"  
  
Just then, the door to Gatta's office flew open and the receptionist soldier looked straight to Gatta, not bothering to excuse his actions.  
  
"Sir,"  
  
"Yes, corporal?" Gatta replied, eyes moving to the squirrelly soldier.  
  
"The receiving dock, it's unfinished."  
  
"This I know, Corporal. What do you want?"  
  
The soldier looked to Tidus and then to Gatta. After a moment of decision, the soldier stepped to Gatta's side and whispered into his ear. Tidus couldn't make out what the soldier was saying, but Gatta shouted aloud upon hearing whatever news it was, "Already!?"  
  
Gatta looked to Tidus and quickly said, "We'll finish this later."  
  
Tidus nodded but couldn't help but raise a brow. The soldier and Gatta left the room in a hurry. After a few moments of deliberation, Tidus decided to leave the office as well. He headed out side and could see a pile of Crusaders gathered around what appeared to be an unfinished loading dock. Most of the men were looking up, so Tidus followed suit. What he saw was something that not even his first look at Sin could've lived up to.  
  
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So this is death, Fagan thought. Nothing but empty black space. It was in his final moments that Fagan had realized his destiny. He knew what he was supposed to do. But how could he do it trapped in a pyrefly? Not even the fact that, upon being absorbed by the little ball of light he was now trapped in, he knew that all of Yevon's teachings were bull shocked him. The only thing on his 'mind' was getting out, and getting out fast.  
  
Try as he might, Fagan couldn't move. He couldn't speak. Couldn't even honestly hear anything except for his own thoughts.  
  
So, this is the glorious heaven Yevon spoke of so much. The 'Farplane.' Apparently, all the Farplane really consisted of was a beautiful mountain and valley with a waterfall and stream. Pyreflies, as far as Fagan could gather from the first moments after death, were light- based creatures that were hosts to the 'life-force' or soul of a human being. They sucked you up and were full for the rest of their life, which was essentially eternal. But, Fagan also wandered as to how certain spirits could escape the prison of the Pyrefly. He gathered it had something to do with being unsent.  
  
Fagan tried to think of a loophole, a catch, anything in the texts that could possibly get him out of this hell and back into the real world, ghost or not. He honestly didn't want to be trapped in the pyrefly for ages on end, his anger and lust for vengeance growing with each vision of his slain wife running through his head. It was then he knew what being sent actually did. The dance repelled the pyreflies from Spira and into the Farplane indefinitely. What if Fagan could somehow do an anti-sending on himself in his own mind? Could the solution simply be singing the Hymn backwards? For a few moments, Fagan gathered his thoughts and concentrated on switching the Hymn's notes backwards. After a while, Fagan had it down pat and sang it to himself over and over again. He sang and sang, with every bit of feeling he could muster. Despite his mute hymn falling on deaf ears, a small beam of reddish light appeared and Fagan could once again see.  
  
Slowly, his sense started to rush back to him. He could smell clean freshwater, fragrant flowers, and the rusted smell of dirt. He could hear a beautiful melody playing that mixed a bird's call with the soothing sound of rain hitting leaves. His eyes were filling with color. Shades of blue, white, green, and brown were jumping about in front of him. A tingling filled his limbs and his vision started to sharpen itself. After a few minutes, Fagan knew exactly where he was and exactly what his was going to do. He clenched his fists and stepped through a hazy blue barrier. His footsteps echoed off the cave-like walls as he made his way down the carved- from-stone stairs. Fagan knew that he couldn't go on like this forever, but he had a renewed life and he was going to make the most of it. Even ghosts had purposes, this Fagan now knew. And if Fagan's purpose was to fight another of his kind, then so be it. Vengeance was justice and justice was a virtue, and Fagan was determined to see that justice was served, one way or another.  
  
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A/n: Another few months, another chapter. BUT! This one has been in the works for a while. I just finished it (and had Shad beta it; Thanks love!) yesterday, which was the same day I got back from my Senior Class Trip. We went to Universal Studios Orlando and had a blast! No apologies for this being late. I've been a busy guy. I've recently won a free ride to the college of my choice including books, I've been preparing for the Grad parties and ceremony, getting my first year in college planned with my advisor, and lazing off! So nyah.  
  
This chapter is essentially just more plot movement, save for Fagan's death etc. I was going to do that whole thing differently and have Fagan on Nyka's side, but at the last minute, changed it to a ghostly tale of vengeance. Bwahah. Chapter 17 coming soon! ~No One 


	17. Chapter 17: Gathering Storm

Chapter 17: Gathering Storm  
  
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"Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all of your heart." Marcus Aurelius  
  
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Waking up in a strange place wasn't exactly new to me. I had dealt with it quite a bit when in Columbia. Of course, what I woke up in there were either tents or little straw huts that had about as much value as the dirt on the ground as far as sheltering one from the elements went. New to me, though, was the idea of waking up in pain. And that's exactly what I did.  
  
I didn't particularly remember much from the bar brawl. I did recall my ass getting kicked, but other than that, not much. What little else I did remember was as fuzzy and distorted as images from a dream. I didn't want to rule any of them fact or fiction just quite yet. My head had to stop spinning before that process could be properly executed.  
  
Despite the pain, my body managed to inch its way upward, at least the top half anyway. My vision, albeit still hindered with the aftereffects of a long sleep, could make out some details of my new and mysterious environs. Across from the rather stiff bed I was lying on was a three-foot- tall dresser with a very small but effective vanity mirror attached to its top. Left of the dresser was a window, complete with drab-tan sheets nailed over it. That certainly didn't do much for insulation. To the right of the dresser was...a stark white wall and I guess was marble or sandstone. Needless to say, I was in a place that was either very old, or was made by a time traveling Roman architect. Something clicked in my brain and I registered the thought that I was possibly still in Luca, since most of Luca's buildings were sandstone or concrete or whatever that white stone like crap was. I was a carpenter, not a mason, damn it.  
  
I turned my head, heard my neck pop like a line of firecrackers, and a snaking shot of pain ran down my spine. I yelped, mainly due to me willingly clenching my teeth to keep my self from outright screaming.  
  
As I quickly reeled my head back to its original position something rather heavy jumped onto my legs. What I first thought was a dog turned out to be the kid from the pub. Although he was the last thing I expected to see and I really didn't feel like dealing with him thanks to my painful state, I spread my arms out as he crawled up to my chest.  
  
"Well what are you doing here?" I asked him.  
  
In his squeaky little voice, he answered. "Seeing how you are, Daddy."  
  
I looked to the dog tags coldly resting against my bare chest and quirked an eyebrow, my mind sifting through my memory banks as I eyed him oddly. Just as I thought, my mind came up with the same answer I had conjectured earlier. I wasn't married and I didn't have a kid. Not really knowing what to say to him besides the blunt truth, I simply blurted. "I'm not your daddy kid."  
  
"Yes you are. You have nametags. Mommy says you're a soldier! And Daddy was a soldier and was lost long ago. Now you're back!"  
  
With that, he hugged my chest like a teddy bear. I grunted in pain as I felt the bruises on my chest screaming at me to throw the little tyke out the window. I suppressed that urge by gripping the bed sheet under me.  
  
Again, nothing but the blunt truth could come from me. "I'm not your daddy, kid. Where's...your mom?"  
  
"Mommy's at the store!"  
  
"Ok."  
  
The kid curled up and nuzzled into my chest, his eyes already closed. I had to admit, he was cute. The only problem I had at the moment, besides the pain of course, was the fact that I had no idea where I was, who this mommy person was, and how the hell I was going to get back to Besaid. I heaved a sigh and watched the kid's head move up and down with my chest. It surprised me how quickly he fell asleep, but what amazed me still was how drowsy I was getting in the process. Soon, I found myself falling asleep.  
  
The funny thing about sleep is that for that first few moments after you wake up, you have no clue what time of day it is and your eyes feel as if they've been stabbed. And you never know what exactly woke you up, right? Well, I knew what woke me up. It was the searing voice of an angry mother. It had just enough anger and coldness in it to jar even me, who hadn't been around a mother since the age of nine.  
  
"Gary! What are you doing on him? Get off of him right this instant!"  
  
I shot up in bed, eyes wide open and chest pounding. I felt the kid slide off my chest and in to my lap. He had the same dumbfounded and scared look as I did. The smile creeping to my lips was instantly curtailed by another searing reprimand.  
  
"I told you not to mess with him, Gary."  
  
"But it's Daddy!"  
  
"It is not Daddy! It's only a soldier. Now get off that bed!" Hearing this made me a tad bit angry, seeing as no one likes to be referred to as "it." Meekly, Gary nodded and slowly slid off the bed and onto the floor. He ran off to some unknown corner of the room and left me with his angry mother, who, as I turned my head, recognized as the waitress from the pub. Again, my brain clicked and I knew what had happened. This waitress had taken me to her home, probably in thanks for saving her son. I saw a few crude bandages covering wounds on my stomach and legs and I was honestly thankful.  
  
She stood there staring at me for a moment while I tried to maintain an innocent look. Why I was trying to portray innocence was out of my mental capacity. Her red-hot stare seemed to cool down a bit as she recognized that I wasn't the guilty party here. Softly, but monotonically, she asked, "How are you feeling?"  
  
I offered a smile and said, trying to curtail the rasp in my voice, "A lot better, thank you."  
  
With that, she followed Gary into the kitchen area across from the left side of the bed. My brow quirked once more thanks to my now piqued curiosity. I slowly but painfully spread my legs and swung them over the side of the bed. It took my back a moment to actually straighten. Apparently I had been there a while.  
  
With quite a bit of caution, I stood and wobbled my way to the window. I pulled the sheet out of the way and looked down onto the street. The sun was slowly dying behind the rows and rows of buildings. I squinted and searched the street below. No Yevonites in sight. Whether this was good or bad thing didn't really register in my brain. I was more concerned at the moment as to the how and when of my escape from Luca. Still, I did need to gather -some- intelligence to come back with, so letting my wounds heal seemed like the best idea. I just hoped Gatta and the others weren't counting on my information any time soon.  
  
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Gatta sighed as he looked into the eyes of the Al Bhed convoy's leader, Rikku. She was standing, rather brazenly, in front of Gatta's operations desk. The mood hovering in the room was thick with condescension. Why it was so, Gatta hadn't learned yet, but the shifting of Rikku's hips marked that she was either about to speak, or about to lunge over the desk.  
  
"I'm here early, I know."  
  
Gatta nodded and responded with, "Yeah, I noticed. Mind telling me why?"  
  
Rikku shrugged, her eyes slowly shifting to the floor, as if admitting some great defeat. "They snuck in and stole a couple of airships, two mech-walkers, and a beam cannon."  
  
Gatta nodded, his reaction a bit too subdued for the severity of the news. He looked to her and simply asked, "When?"  
  
"Yesterday. We couldn't catch them in time." At this, Rikku sighed and slammed a fist into a clear spot on Gatta's desk. While her move didn't startle Gatta to the point of jumping in surprise, it did cause his eyes to widen. After a moment of composing herself, Rikku sighed and continued, a slight growl of anger stinging her normally chipper voice. "I ordered the troops and all volunteers to move out. I want to plan a liberation attack -now-."  
  
"I understand. But without the information Weston's gathering, we wouldn't stand much of chance. He -should- be back, at least according to the loose plan, in four days."  
  
"Then he's got four days. Meanwhile, I want the Crusader's leader, that's you, and the Al Bhed's leader, that's my dad, and the Al Bhed's military leader, that's me, to form up a strategy to get Luca its freedom. If Weston doesn't come four days from now, I'm going to deploy troops, with or without a plan and with or without the Crusaders."  
  
While Gatta didn't like his command stepped on, the deeply hidden timid soldier from three years ago sympathized with Rikku's harsh means. She was angry, scared, and confused. Her outgoing nature made her more of a showy leader than a strategic one. She was brazen and usually went against odds, and Gatta knew this from her conversations. Rikku was quick to the point, confident, and, usually, ready to take plenty of risks. While Gatta still saw all of this in her, the nervous twitching of her index and middle fingers denoted that the girl had had to make some rather quick and hasty decisions in the past few days and that those decisions were weighing heavily on her mind. No doubt, Gatta thought, Rikku's former personality would take a back seat as she settled into her command, much like his had.  
  
Gatta sighed and nodded, crossing his arms. "You'll have the Crusaders' support in either case, but isn't rushing in..."  
  
"The perfect course of action given the circumstances."  
  
At this, Gatta cleared his throat and raised a brow. "What circumstances?"  
  
"If we surprise them, and hit 'em hard and fast, we'd have the upper hand, right?"  
  
A smirk crept to Gatta's face. Still the same Rikku, but this time, she wasn't talking about Blitzball. She was talking about lives at stake.  
  
Solemnly, but respectively, Gatta corrected her thoughts. "And what of the civilians? The location of strategic troop placements? We could very well storm Luca, but we'd be blind. Rushing into a battle blind is like putting rocks in your sandals. It hurts and the only thing accomplished by it is a decrease in speed and efficiency. We -have- to have a plan, even without information present. We have to coordinate and -then- attack in waves. Coordination is the first thing taught to Crusader recruits."  
  
Rikku nodded and mumbled an "Oh..." After a little bit of mental fishing, she came up with, "Well, Crusaders don't have very high rank structures, do they?"  
  
Gatta shook his head. "Captain is the highest, save Commander." He then added, implying her own army, "It's better than no structure at all."  
  
He saw Rikku frown but her trademark anger didn't rear its head. Gatta leaned back and took a glance outside and saw that a squad of recruits was in evasive maneuver training. Most of the recruits the Crusaders were getting were coming in from Kilika. Grown men and teenagers alike were joining up because of what happened during the battle. Gatta knew what these men were thinking. They saw the Crusaders win, and their confidence had skyrocketed. Sadly, Gatta thought, most of them didn't realize that what had happened at Kilika was nothing compared to what was coming in the next few months. Any one involved enough with the war could feel the icy chill of oncoming slaughter. The tension, the climate, and the anger were all there to create a battle far greater in size, scope, and casualties than previously seen. The battle for Kilika was a cakewalk compared to what Gatta felt was coming.  
  
After letting the silence drone on for a little while, Gatta softly asked, "Where's Cid?"  
  
Rikku seemed to jump out of deep thought and looked to Gatta as if she hadn't understood the question. Shortly, though, she blinked and answered his question. "He told me he was going to go talk to Yuna. She's at the temple, right?"  
  
Gatta blinked a few times and then nodded, coming around his desk to stand in front of her. "Well, I think he's in for a surprise."  
  
Rikku raise a brow, "How so?"  
  
With a shake of his head, Gatta grabbed Rikku's arm and exited the office, dragging her with him. "No time to explain. You'll see for yourself."  
  
Rikku shrugged and followed the slightly shorter Crusader commander to the Temple.  
  
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"Are you hungry?"  
  
I blinked a few times, turning around from the window. The waitress' cold eyes met my own and I had to shudder. I'd seen those cold eyes before on the battlefield, except this time, I didn't have a weapon or the support of a few troops to ease my nerves. I yelped out a "No, thank you." For some reason, my throat had gone dry and my heart's pace gained a few steps in speed. Not the most warranted reaction, I assure you. She walked away with a curt turn on her heel and I did the same, the setting sun coming into my view.  
  
I wondered if I had just offended her, saying no to food like that. Why I wondered this was beyond me, even then. Here I was, a nervous, timid, and uncertain Weston. I shook my head and rubbed my temples with my index fingers. My heart was still going a mile a minute and I could feel every joint shaking. This wasn't me. I was the guy who was always calm, collected, even with bullets flying by my head. Hell, sometimes, I was downright cocky in battle. But with Ms. Ice herself in the room, I wasn't me. I was someone completely different, and I really didn't like that.  
  
Standing the pain in my chest, I managed to lie down again. I didn't bother covering up and just lay there, bare-chested and scratching at my ever-growing stubble. While I didn't mind it per se, I tended to keep my cheeks and jaw clean while keeping a goatee. Beards made me look older, as if the weathering effects of battle weren't enough. Soon, the little tyke, Gary, was back at my bedside.  
  
"Hey, Daddy?"  
  
I sighed but didn't bother correcting him. He was at the point of childhood where if he wanted to call me that, he would, regardless of what anyone told him.  
  
"Yeah?" I replied.  
  
"How many battles have you been in?"  
  
A stifled laugh came to me and I rolled my eyes. "Too many to count, little man."  
  
Gary laughed at my nickname for him. "Really?"  
  
"Really," I confirmed.  
  
"Daddy must be old!"  
  
Again, I stifled a laugh. "Not really."  
  
Just then, Gary's mother called for him and the young child leapt off of me. I watched as he bounded off towards the left side of the room and through an empty doorjamb. The aroma of cooking food filled my nostrils, and in all honesty, I was -very- hungry. I just didn't want to trouble Gary's mother.  
  
I rolled over in bed, my back facing the entrance to the kitchen and soon found myself falling back to sleep. In the final moments between consciousness and sleep, I faintly heard the rapping of knuckles on the wooden front door.  
  
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As Fagan reached the bottom of the stairs, he felt a strong grip in his shoulder.  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."  
  
Fagan turned around quickly to face the voice. Instead, he came witness to the cave and stairs before him vanishing into thin air, a pure white aura replacing his environs. He turned about a few times, trying to understand what just happened. The disembodied voice helped answer his worries.  
  
"Welcome to the -real- Farplane."  
  
"Huh?" was all Fagan could manage.  
  
"This is the true Farplane. A plane of existence in the clouds where freed souls go."  
  
"Freed souls?" asked Fagan.  
  
"You see," said the voice, "the Farplane known to Spira's inhabitants is just a gathering place for Pyreflies."  
  
Fagan could only scratch his head.  
  
"Pyreflies are invisible beings of light that can only gain a visible body by feeding on souls. Usually, one human soul does the trick."  
  
"Is that...what...happens when people die?"  
  
The voice laughed. "You should know. You were in one until I heard your song."  
  
"The hymn..."  
  
"Correct. I heard your hymn and released you from your Pyrefly prison. Mind you, that's normally impossible to do."  
  
"Then how did..."  
  
"It has something to do with being unsent. Sending a spirit forever locks it into a Pyrefly, apparently. I want to explain to you, though, how important you are at the moment, Fagan."  
  
"You know my name?"  
  
"Yes, and I know how you died and what you want to do to a certain someone if given the chance to return to Spira. While I don't commend it, it will have to be allowed because you are the only one who can pull it off."  
  
"Pull what off?"  
  
"Bringing down Nyka."  
  
"You mean..."  
  
"Ah, you know, then?"  
  
"In...my last moments...I saw his true form between his teleports."  
  
"Do you know his story?"  
  
"Only that he has a grandson..."  
  
"Wrong. It is not -his- grandson, but the -real- Nyka's grandson."  
  
Fagan uttered a sound of confusion.  
  
"I suppose I'll have to tell you. Three years ago, Yuna and her now famed guardians defeated Sin and destroyed Yu Yevon."  
  
"So there was never a Yevon?"  
  
"Oh, there was one alright. Yu Yevon was a maniacal tyrant running Spira's 'Loop of Death' from the safe confines of Sin. But Yu Yevon was no deity. He wasn't of flesh and blood, certainly, but he wasn't a god either. I'd tell you Yevon's history, but we really don't have time for that and I'd rather you learn it alongside the others."  
  
"Others? What others? You mean you've brought other people here...or back to life?"  
  
"You could say that. -I- didn't bring them back, per se, but I know of a certain someone who can and he has brought -one- back to life. The other...we've got no clue why he's here."  
  
"Who are these 'others'?"  
  
With a raspy but booming laugh, the voice replied, "You've met one and heard of the other. But enough with that. Names aren't important. I'm going to give you the information you need to know."  
  
Fagan sighed and nodded to the empty white plane.  
  
"The original Nyka was a little known land owner in Bevelle. After the defeat of Sin and the subsequent collapse of the Yevon religion, an old friend of ours decided that instead of finding his way here, he'd live out another life as another person. The -real- Nyka lost his life while trying to tack up a Youth Alliance banner on his home. Our 'old friend' then took Nyka's body and voice."  
  
Fagan could figure out the rest for himself. "And so began the spiral..."  
  
"Into chaos," the voice finished. "You are going to put our 'old friend' into his rightful place."  
  
"The prison of a Pyrefly."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"And I shall do this how?"  
  
"I suppose he'll have to be sent."  
  
Fagan hmmed. "Couldn't...Yuna do that?"  
  
The voice hmmed as well. "There's a problem with that, you see. He could just as easily teleport far away, so that he couldn't be sent."  
  
"Do you think I could possibly...trap him...you know, since he's unsent too?"  
  
"Possibly. I'm not guaranteeing anything. Just remember that if you can manage to do that, you yourself will be forever trapped in that Pyrefly."  
  
"A small price to pay, in my opinion."  
  
"Commendable."  
  
Fagan wondered to himself just how he was going to get Yuna to do such a thing, after such a long time.  
  
Another laugh came and the voice said, as if in reply to Fagan's thoughts, "That shall be up to you, Fagan."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"On the Farplane, thoughts are just as loud as spoken word."  
  
"Then how do you get privacy?"  
  
"Privacy is a matter for the living, Fagan. There are no secrets among the dead."  
  
Fagan only nodded to the white space in front of him.  
  
"Now, where shall I drop you off?"  
  
Fagan thought a moment, and before he could give his verbal answer, the voice said, "Besaid, it is."  
  
--------------------  
  
I have to admit that I was taken by surprise. Admitting that, especially when you're a soldier, isn't easy. Soldiers always want to be on the defensive. Nothing's worse than a soldier losing his life with a bullet to the back. But, there I was, barebacked and just offering the Yevonite a juicy kill. Too bad for him that he decided to antagonize Gary's mother instead of me.  
  
After silently crawling my way off the other side of the bed, lodging myself between the wall and bed frame, he surmised the reason for his intrusion into the apartment with a rather simple phrase.  
  
"Do you, or do you not, support and believe in the Yevon religion?"  
  
I rolled my eyes as my knees and hands worked together to slowly and silently move along the foot of the bed. From this vantage point, I could see the entire situation. Gary and his mother were pinned against the wall next to the entrance to the kitchen. The soldier was brandishing a rifle and his finger was itching ever closer to the trigger. I gathered he was nervous when I saw his shoulder and forearm muscles twitching like wildfire. He also had this tick to his right eye, which I really didn't like. The soldier was obviously green and was probably stuck with building sweeps or some bullshit job of that same nature to keep him out of the more experienced soldiers' hair. I should know, I went through that same bullshit in Columbia.  
  
He asked his question again, and then stated that Gary and his mother had five seconds to answer him before they were shot dead. By now, I was directly behind the somewhat shorter soldier. I looked to Gary and then his mother, my finger to my mouth. Gary's mother's eyes locked to mine as my left forearm wrapped around the soldier's neck, just under the jaw, left hand gripping the right side of his jaw. My right forearm wrapped around his forehead and its hand closed over and gripped the soldier's ear. Surprised, the soldier tried to gasp, but I wasn't giving him enough air to allow a sound to emanate. He raised his rifle as my shoulders locked, bringing all of my upper body strength into my forearms. I nodded to Gary's mother. Seeming to understand my gesture, she grabbed Gary and jumped off to the side just as my right arm pulled back eastward, my left pulling back in the opposite direction. The rifle dropped faster than the body, surprisingly. I expected the soldier to at least keep the rifle. Oh well.  
  
Gary seemed rather interested in the weapon and ran for it, but his mother caught his shoulder and dragged him back to the corner where she had nested. I looked to her with my brow cocked, and this only made her plant Gary in her lap and bring her knees to the boy's chest, as if she were hiding him in some sort of pouch. With a sigh, I bent over and picked up the rifle, and again, my eyes went back to the couple huddled in the corner. I made eye contact with the mother and she immediately shuddered and turned her back to me.  
  
"What, you don't trust me?" I said aloud, the bite in my voice huskier and angrier than intended. Of course, she didn't answer and just sat there, trembling. I guessed it was only natural. She had just witnessed me murder someone. And while it was in self-defense, it was still murder. Damn kid should've never entered the building. I tried to imagine what kind of notification Yevonite soldiers' parents got when their pride and joy was torn a new on one the battlefield, or, as in this young soldier's case, killed on some pissant job on his first week or two of duty. Oh well. Enemies are enemies, old and young alike, and my compassion for the people trying to kill me had long since been abandoned. A firefight with Columbian Rebels will do that to you. So ferocious yet so unorganized, you get so used to killing them, it becomes more or less like washing laundry. You may hate doing it at first, but it's gotta be done and it soon just becomes a common part of your psyche.  
  
A laugh escaped me when I worked the gun's breech. The poor kid hadn't even chambered a round. But, thanks to him, I was now able to see a Yevonite rifle up and close. I closed the breech and looked for a safety. As I expected, there wasn't one. It was a good thing it hadn't gone off when it dropped. Gary was too cute of a kid to be shot.  
  
The rifle itself was primitive, as I had observed earlier in battle, but it was still formidable. I had studied the American Civil War rabidly as a teenager and had grown accustomed to respecting a primitive rifle's power. The late 18th century muskets and prototype repeaters used in that war were so effective in crushing flesh and bone, most wounded soldiers didn't come back home in one piece. I opened the breech checked the action. It was an autoloader, which, as far as I could tell, was loaded like a Remington .22. The user had a small tube that extended to a little bit shorter than the barrel's length and held the cartridges. Upon cocking the breech, a shell would be automatically loaded into the breech and the firing pin would lock, allowing for the trigger to be pulled and fire the weapon. The used shell would be ejected and the spring-dowel that closed the cartridge-tube pushed the next round closer to the breech where it would slide up into position and subsequently chambered.  
  
I worked the breech again and again, the gun ejecting cartridges this way and that. After the gun was empty, I set it down on the body. I picked up a cartridge and it matched the one I had seen in Kilika. A large caliber bullet with a small firing primer on the bottom. Primitive, but deadly.  
  
Quickly, I picked up the bullets and threw them, save one, out the curtained window facing the -hopefully- empty street. Just to make sure, I looked down to the small road and to my relief, found no one. I picked up the soldier, his gun cradled on his back, and walked to the window. I looked one last time, checking for any onlookers, saw none, and tossed the body to the ground. I turned and heard the thud I was expecting. I knew the body couldn't stay there forever and not be discovered, so that led me to realizing that getting out of the apartment in the next few days might just be a good idea.  
  
My eyes caught Gary's mother stand, her son cradled in her arms. "That's a start," I commented. I was met with a cold stare. With a shrug, I asked, "Do you have anywhere to go, say your parents' house or husband..."  
  
"No," came her strangely biting reply. She curtly turned around and headed for the kitchen. Apparently, the kitchen and its sans-door entryway was impassible to anyone but her and Gary. Right.  
  
So soon, I was in the kitchen's entrance, which was surprising narrow. I easily took it up, blocking the only exit from the area. I noticed Gary's mother frantically slicing some sort of vegetable. "Look, lady, I'm not going to hurt you and I'm not here to mooch off of you. I appreciate you tending my wounds, but I've really got to get out of this apartment and this town, ASAP."  
  
Gary, who was sitting at the small table in the center of the nook- turned-kitchen laughed. "Daddy, what does ASAP mean?"  
  
I looked to him and started to reply, but his mother's biting voice tore into my sentence. "Gary, what have I told you? He's -not- Daddy!"  
  
My brow cocked and I looked to her once more. "Hey, calm down. First of all, it's not like he's going to listen to you, and second of all, he can call me whatever he wants to."  
  
She huffed and I was then able to answer Gary. "As Soon As Possible, bud."  
  
"Oh! I wanna do something ASAP!"  
  
I laughed. "And what's that?"  
  
"Eat!" screamed Gary.  
  
I heard his mother growl and she turned to me with a look that combined enough anger and bitterness to chill even Hitler's bones. Meekly, I turned around and found the bed again. The sounds of a mother-son quarrel were soon heard and I decided not to interfere with that.  
  
A few minutes later, a defeated, but obviously still jovial Gary found his way onto the bed. I sat up and met him with a tap on his nose. "You oughta keep that mouth in check. Your mom seems easily agitated."  
  
The child shook his head. "I dunno why she's like this...Mommy's always so nice and caring."  
  
"Well, maybe the stress of what happened with that bad man made her mad," I suggested.  
  
"I dun think so," Gary replied. "Mommy's been that way ever since you came here."  
  
I raised a brow and nodded. "I noticed."  
  
"Do you think you can fix Mommy?" he asked me.  
  
Despite my hard exterior, I was a sucker for cute kids and their cute sayings. All one of my enemies had to do was place a cute kid out on the battlefield and it'd be like Lex Luther giving Superman an injection of Kryptonite. But I'm no superman, just to keep you from thinking I'm an egomaniac or something. I'm an Aquaman, tops. Ok, forget that superhero stuff.  
  
Anyway, I shrugged my shoulders and ruffled his hair. "I don't know."  
  
Gary half-pouted and his eyebrows rose in unison, his face resembling that of a puppy's. "Can you try, Daddy?"  
  
I sighed and gritted my teeth. "I'll try if you wipe that look off your face."  
  
Gary gladly obliged and pointed to the kitchen.  
  
I got up, popped my neck and headed for the kitchen. The only thought running through my mind when I entered and was met with yet another cold stare was, "This should be fun!" Fun indeed.  
  
--------------------  
  
Eimour tried to emit the coldest stare possible. She wanted him to know that she wasn't going to let her guard down around him, especially after seeing how..."skilled" he was at his tradecraft. He leisurely came in and sat down at the small table. She noticed the small wooden chair straining under his bulk and this did nothing to help her worries. Not only had she taken on a trained killer, her furniture would be crushed by his muscular girth.  
  
As she wiped down a dish, she could feel his eyes on him. It made her eerily uncomfortable in a multitude of ways. One was the fact that she felt she had no control over the situation and that she was the stranger, and he was the owner of the apartment. This feeling was amplified by Gary's newfound attachment to the soldier. Calling him 'Daddy' certainly wasn't helping either. Another way she was bothered by his presence was how intimidating he seemed, but could still joke around with Gary in an almost childish way. It was as if he had two faces, much like a man she once knew...  
  
She growled and shook her head. Slowly, she turned and saw him, still sitting there. He smiled at her and while she was somewhat comforted by it, she kept her cold exterior.  
  
Trying her best to keep any emotion from her voice, Eimour asked him, "Would you like something to eat?"  
  
He shook his head and answered her, "No. Just need to get out of bed."  
  
She nodded and turned back to her dishes. After a few minutes of silence, his raspy voice cut into the air and her ears. "I want to...uhh...thank you for what you did for me."  
  
Eimour sighed and simply nodded. Unfortunately, he continued.  
  
"Gary's a great kid...but if I may, can I have -your- name?"  
  
Despite her jaw muscles and fist tightening as she leaned back against the counter, she answered his question. "Eimour."  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"Ee-Ah-Mor," she slowly pronounced.  
  
"Ah. Well, thank you, again, Eimour."  
  
She knew what he was doing. Despite every cold stare and bitter or monotonic response, he was going to keep on being warm, sincere, and downright annoying. Tired and in no mood for a mental war, she let loose her muscles and her angry façade. In all truth, she had some thanking to do of her own.  
  
"And I thank you, Mr...?"  
  
"It's just Weston."  
  
"Thank you...Weston...for protecting us back there."  
  
He seemed not at all surprised that her barrier had fallen. "It's the least I could do. Besides, Gary was in trouble, and he's my buddy now. Buddies have to stick together."  
  
His voice at that last sentence had lightened to almost that of a little boy's and she couldn't help but crack the smallest of smiles.  
  
Weston laughed and nodded to the other end of the table. "Have a seat, get comfortable. I'm tired of sleeping. Mind if you keep my company for a little while?"  
  
She blinked a few times and then sat down across from him, wondering why she was nodding and smiling at him. It was as if she wasn't really in control of her body. Yet again, she was uncomfortable because Weston, a stranger, seemed to have this control over her that she couldn't explain.  
  
Weston leaned back a bit in his chair and sighed. "So I suppose I should tell you about myself."  
  
"It'd be appreciated, yes," Eimour managed, trying not to sound sarcastic or mean spirited.  
  
He leaned forward and hmmed. "I don't exactly know what to tell you..."  
  
"The truth, maybe," Eimour replied with a slight grin.  
  
Weston nodded. "Yeah, but the truth is...rather hard to believe...and it's also chock full of...interesting tidbits."  
  
"What, you're a lost Crusader on a mission to help save Luca, or something?" she spouted, her mild laugh ending in with a sarcastic smirk.  
  
"Well, actually..." he said, his mouth turning up to one corner.  
  
Eimour blinked a few times and cocked her head to one side. "So you're telling me that I have a Crusader in my apartment and that you're on a mission to liberate my city?"  
  
"Ok, so that's not exactly the truth."  
  
She sighed and calmed down a bit. "I -am- a soldier and I'm working -for- the Crusaders, but I'm not actually...of their ranks."  
  
"So...you're...fighting the Nyka's forces?"  
  
"I was at Kilika when they tried to invade and I was recently involved in a skirmish at Bikanel. Yes, I've seen lots of combat and, as you're probably aware of by now, I'm not afraid of using force."  
  
"So what are you doing in my apartment? Shouldn't a soldier's mission take first priority?"  
  
Weston blinked. "You've got me there. I saw your pub and decided to stop in. I didn't really expect to be...-here-."  
  
Eimour nodded. "I take it you're planning on returning to that mission soon."  
  
Weston simply nodded in response.  
  
"So you're a soldier working for the Crusaders...is that all you are?"  
  
"Pretty much. If I were anything else, I wouldn't be here."  
  
"I'd imagine not. When do you plan on returning to your mission?"  
  
Weston scratched his stubbly chin in thought a moment and the replied, "As soon as my chest stops feeling like a knife is lodged in it. So, I'm guessing three to four days from now."  
  
Eimour nodded and looked about the kitchen, trying not to look directly at him.  
  
Of course, being a soldier, he noticed, and jarred her with saying, "It's not a welcoming sign to a guest when you don't make eye contact."  
  
Eimour didn't really know how to react, so she simply shrugged and continued looking about.  
  
"One thing I was taught in my training as a soldier was that keeping eye contact with an enemy was a deadly mistake. That moment of eye contact usually spells defeat, because if you take the time to lock your gaze with the man trying to kill you, you could also try to take the time to feel compassion for him."  
  
Weston's words sunk deep into Eimour and she physically trembled. Her eyes couldn't help but to come into contact with his after hearing that. In a few sentences, he had broken all resistance she had to him and upon their gazes meeting, all doubt of his intentions was dropped. Eimour knew what he was doing. He was trying to tell her that he was not an enemy. Weston was conveying to her through his cryptic words that he wasn't someone to be feared, but someone to be trusted. But long held convictions about men had kept Eimour from seeing that. And she still didn't trust him. But he seemed to want to genuinely keep Gary safe, so she would, at the least, trust his skills as a soldier.  
  
"See? Nothing to be afraid of. I'm not like the bastards in control of this town. I'm not going to hurt you or Gary. I'll be here for a short time and then I'm gone, ok? I'll do everything I can to stay out of your way."  
  
She nodded and stood. "Would you like some coffee?"  
  
Weston nodded. "Coffee. Such a trivial thing to me only a few months ago..."  
  
"Excuse me?" she asked, her back turned to him as she filled a pot with water.  
  
"Oh, nothing. It's just been awhile since I've had coffee. It's not served on Besaid."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't have it on Besaid anyway," Eimour said. "Who'd want coffee made with salt water?"  
  
At this, Weston shuddered. "Yech, the thought alone makes me sick."  
  
Eimour stifled a laugh. "What do they serve on Besaid as a wake me up?"  
  
"Ale. And I'm not the ale type."  
  
"You certainly look it, though," she remarked, not able to stop herself.  
  
He didn't seem to take it as an insult and simply said, "Eh."  
  
A few minutes passed and the coffee was ready. Eimour set a cup down in front of Weston, who nodded his thanks, while she kept her own in her two hands, sipping lightly at it.  
  
"Have you always been in that shape?" she asked, nodding to him.  
  
Weston shrugged. "Ever since I joined the Army."  
  
"-The- Army? Didn't know there was just one."  
  
He laughed. "Well, where I come from, we just call it -the- Army."  
  
"Where do you come from?" she asked. She pretty much knew he knew she was going to ask, and she wondered if he'd tell her the honest truth, or babble on about how he can't 'divulge' the information.  
  
"Well...America. The United States of America, to be exact."  
  
"And where is that?"  
  
Weston lifted an arm and too a sip, his shoulders shrugging. "Oh, a couple of millennia ago."  
  
Eimour stopped in mid-sip, her eyes coming to him as if he'd just told her he was a magical creature from some far off land, which wasn't very far from the truth.  
  
With a smile, he simply scratched at the back of his neck and added, "Hard to believe, I know, but it's the truth. I've got witnesses."  
  
"Interesting," she said half-heartedly. Eimour sat back down and sat her cup of coffee in front of her. "Either that was the joke, or the truth. I don't feel as if I should question the soldier who, just a few minutes ago, saved my life. At least, not until I save yours."  
  
Weston smiled as he took another rather large sip of his coffee. "Eh, the way I see it, I've repaid the debt I owed to -you-."  
  
"Whatever way you see it, I'll see it differently. You owe me nothing."  
  
"And neither do you. So let's call it even."  
  
Eimour shrugged. "I imagine it won't matter soon. You said you'd be leaving soon."  
  
"That's the plan. Oh, and I'd like to ask you something."  
  
Eimour eyed him strangely, wondering what he was about to ask. "Yes?"  
  
"The soldiers come in your pub regularly, right?"  
  
"They practically live there. So?"  
  
"Could you...just listen to their conversations a little and see if anything important pops out?"  
  
"Well, I've already been doing that. All they talk about is what their orders are."  
  
"What are their orders?"  
  
Eimour shrugged. "Something to do with thinning out their presence here. One of them even offered me a trip to the Calm Lands, as long as I'd...you know."  
  
Weston nodded. "The Calm Lands?"  
  
"Apparently, they're massing just to the south of the area. They don't know why, though."  
  
Weston blinked. "I've really, really got to get back to Besaid." He sat up rather quickly, but fell to the floor clutching his chest.  
  
"Argh, damn it."  
  
Eimour shot up and leapt to his side. "What happened?"  
  
"Guess I'm not that better after all."  
  
"You strained yourself. Here, let me take you to the bed."  
  
She took on of his arms and helped him up. He leaned on her while they shuffled to the bed. He slowly laid down and Eimour pulled the covers over him.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
She nodded and headed back to the kitchen. A worried Gary came to the side of the bed. "You ok, Daddy?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just worked myself too hard."  
  
Gary hopped up onto the bed and laid down next to Weston. "I'll keep the bad guys from getting ya, Daddy."  
  
"You do that little man," Weston said, laughing despite the pain souring through his body.  
  
--------------------  
  
As Gatta and Rikku jogged along Besaid's main path, the sun was slowly setting off in the distance, the water already swallowing half of the large star. The small village of Besaid was drenched in a reddish- orange glow and every surface seemed to be glowing. Even Rikku, whose mind was working overtime to try to figure out where Gatta was taking her, could admire the beauty of a Besaid sunset.  
  
A wooden dwelling came up on the right side of the path and Gatta nodded towards it as they jogged along. "Weston built that."  
  
Not really paying attention, Rikku offered a monotonic, "Oh, really? Nice," in response.  
  
Soon, they were both double-stepping the stairs leading to the Temple's long entry alcove, its blue marble columns and tiles still as beautiful as they were the first time Rikku had seen them.  
  
Gatta stopped at the door and turned to a heaving Rikku.  
  
"Why did we have to run all the way here?" she asked between breaths.  
  
To this, Gatta only laughed and put his hands to his hips. "Out of shape, are we? That was nothing."  
  
She stuck her tongue out and straightened up from her bent over position. "Are we going in or what?"  
  
"I have to make sure he's here, first. Stay out here for just a moment, okay?"  
  
"Ok...wait a minute!" But Gatta didn't wait. Rikku called out, "Who's 'he?'" but Gatta was already where he couldn't hear her. Rikku sighed and squatted down to the right of the door, grumbling to herself.  
  
It wasn't long before Gatta returned and stuck his head out of the door. "You can come in now," he said with an official tone.  
  
Rikku grunted at him and got up. Gatta opened the door for her and she punched his shoulder jokingly as she entered.  
  
"Hey Rikku, long time no see."  
  
Rikku nearly hit the ceiling, her reactionary jump was so high.  
  
"Tidus!" After yelling his name multiple times, she ran and wrapped her arms around his waist. His arms came around her shoulders.  
  
"Nice to see you too," he said, laughing afterwards.  
  
After pulling back from the embrace, Rikku noticed Yuna and Lulu standing off to the side of him. She put her hands to her hips and scolded, "Why wasn't I told?! And where have -you- been?! Jeez, Tidus. Took ya long enough to get back, didn't it?"  
  
They all laughed, including Gatta, who had posted himself guard at the door.  
  
Tidus shrugged once the chuckles had left his system. He said with a beaming smile, "What can I say? I'm the fashionably late kinda guy."  
  
Laughter erupted again.  
  
Gatta looked on and smiled, glad to see everyone in such high spirits. But he was also hoping that meeting Tidus again would help Rikku forget her deadline for Weston. Gatta had the odd feeling that something was wrong, and when he usually got that feeling, he was right. Somehow, Weston's mission had become compromised and it'd be a while before anyone heard from him. Going into Luca without that intelligence was not what Gatta wanted, but if Rikku had her way, they'd go in now. With a sigh, he walked out of the temple and looked up at the slowly darkening sky.  
  
"I hope, wherever you are, Weston, that you get back here soon. Otherwise, there'll be quite a bit to pay when it's all said and done."  
  
With that said, Gatta started on his walk back to the camp. 'One thing is for certain,' he thought, 'is that death is coming. It's hanging above our heads. I have the sickening feeling that this war is going to make us wish we only had Sin to worry about...'  
  
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A/N: Short, yes. Plot mover, yes. Well, at least it's not coming to ya three months later :P Can't say much about this chappie except that it's setting up for some really fun stuff that's going to be even more fun writing. A BATTLE! Whee. Oops, just gave away what you probably already know is coming. Oh well. I'm off to work on Chapter 18, and my upcoming college career! ~No One 


	18. Chapter 18: The Siege Begins

Chapter 18: The Siege Begins  
  
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"We have to go along a road covered with blood. We have no other alternative. For us it is a matter of life or death, a matter of living or existing. We have to be ready to face the challenges that await us." - Gamel Abdel Nasser  
  
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Four days can pass fast, especially when one's not looking. The past few days had been increasingly odd for Eimour, seeing that the soldier she had taken into her home, Weston, recovered rather quickly and had started to help her in her chores. He had also begun to tour Luca on his "jogs." Those jogs took three to four hours and when he came back, he had nearly ten pieces of paper full of notes and drawings. Eimour supposed that he had continued his mission in those jogs. But outside of the jogs, he didn't seem to concern himself with matters of war.  
  
Gary seemed to really be a distraction for Weston, Eimour had also noticed. Weston had even taken Gary to the market. The two came back loaded with toys, books, and candy. Of course, Eimour had wondered where all the money to buy the stuff came from. Weston had only patted his back pocket and winked at her.  
  
At work, Eimour had done what Weston asked her to do. Every day, she usually came home with new tidbits for Weston to write down in his logbook, which he had bought in the market. It was a simple, hardbound book that contained two sleeves for loose paper, and blank sheets in the binding for notes. If Weston wasn't eating, or playing with Gary, he was usually writing in that book. Or, he was talking with Eimour over coffee.  
  
Weston had seemed to take a liking to the stiff conversations Eimour held with him. Every night, after Gary had gone asleep, he'd come in to the kitchen, help with the dishes, and fix the coffee himself. They'd both sit down and slowly sip at their coffees until their cups were empty, all the while learning more about each other and discussing the political climate in Spira.  
  
Eimour had to admit that she enjoyed the talks, despite the uneasy feeling she had whenever she saw him. Weston was odd, in her opinion. She had known a few battle-worn soldiers in her lifetime, especially before that night at the bar. They were usually either crazy, or drawn in. Most seemed to be in a constant daze thanks to the violence they had seen in their lives. But Weston, despite all the battles he told her he'd been in, was strangely a normal human being. She had seen him as a soldier in action, and it almost sickened her how nonchalant he was after just killing someone. Of course, he had tried to explain to her that acting so cool about it was just his way of dealing with the fear and anxiety one felt in battle. To Eimour, though, killing someone should have had a greater impact than just, "Oh, I killed them. Better them than me."  
  
At heart, Eimour still saw Weston as being a barbaric warrior who was destined to find his end on some battlefield, even despite his charm and outgoing nature. To her, Weston was built for war. He was strong, calm, and logical. Weston knew just what to do at the moment he needed to do it, even with hundreds of men circling him and trying to kill him. That not only made him dangerous, it also made him a little insane. Only a somewhat crazy person could keep his head in the midst of the chaos of battle. That, if somewhat overstated, is how Eimour classified him. She saw not the man that he portrayed every day, playing with Gary, doing chores, or sipping coffee, but the soldier in him. The man that could as quickly kill an opposing foe as he could pick up Gary. She respected him, of course, for that fact. Weston provided a sense of protection she hadn't felt in ages, but he also provided her with an uneasy feeling. And that uneasy feeling only got worse as she saw him draw out tactics for battle in his logbook.  
  
What fed her qualms even more was the fact that many of the soldiers showing up at the pub were looking rather tired, as if they'd been doing long and hard work. She even went as far as asking one. The reply was simple, straightforward, and just what she needed to tell Weston when she returned to the apartment.  
  
"My squad had to haul in this big ole' beam cannon thing to the stadium. Cap'n says that it's gonna be used to defend from attack, as if an attack is even coming."  
  
And it was that soldier's words that caused her to leave work early and head back to the apartment. Unfortunately, Weston and Gary weren't back yet, instantly causing Eimour to worry.  
  
Had Weston stole Gary away? She highly doubted that Weston would kidnap her son, but then again, she really didn't trust Weston, and their absence scared her.  
  
Eimour took one of the flimsy chairs from the kitchen and planted it about a meter and a half from the door, her eyes locked to the thin, hinged wooden rectangle. She sat motionless, rigid as stone; that is, until the entire building shook violently and she was thrown from her chair.  
  
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"What was that, Daddy!?"  
  
I shook my head and slowly regained my balance. We were mere inches from the front entrance to the building, but I had been taken off guard by what I, at the time, thought was an earthquake. But the sound of a far off explosion soon filled my ears and I knew that something major had just begun.  
  
Gary was cradled on my shoulders, legs wrapped around my neck and hands closed over my forehead. The only shock the kid had felt was me stumbling to regain my balance.  
  
I replied to his question. "Don't worry about, little man. We've got to go get your mother and get out of this town."  
  
Then, after regaining my balance completely, I ran through the entrance and started up the first flight of stairs. As I reached the first steps of the second flight, the building shook once more and I latched onto the handrail on my way up the stairs to keep from falling. Breathing was becoming a scarce commodity thanks to Gary's legs tightening around my neck with every creak and shift in the stairs.  
  
Finally, we found the apartment and I didn't bother with the knob. My shoulders did a fair job of opening the weak door and there was Eimour, on the floor next to a toppled chair. I called her name but she didn't seem to hear me. She was staring directly at me, but I guess she was either in shock or disbelief or both. I reached down and grabbed her arm.  
  
"Let's go," I said as sternly as possible, not bothering to stop the raspy bite in my voice.  
  
She seemed to understand me then, and got up. With my hand still grasping her arm, I started down the stairs. Eimour was desperately trying to watch her step as we made our way down. I didn't have time for that. Whatever was happening, it was happening then and I didn't want to end up dead in an explosion.  
  
On the trip down the stairs, the handrail was a useful tool. The building was shaking in a steady rhythm now, and I knew that a couple more of those explosions would be all it took to topple the dilapidated structure Eimour called home. We found the entrance and didn't take the time to even notice it as we ran.  
  
I could feel Eimour lagging, but that really didn't stop me. I'd carry her if I had to. I was going to get to the residential gate if it took my life. While I cherished it, I didn't want to leave Gary without a mother and I certainly didn't want to leave them in a town that was obviously in trouble. I was only one man though, so, as much as I would've liked to, I could only help the people who had helped me. Besides, when we finally made our way south, towards the residential gate, I noticed that quite a few citizens had taken to the notion to get out of the town as well. The streets were packed, but somehow, despite the now deafening sounds of explosions erupting, buildings toppling behind us, and the notion that we might not make it, the traffic flowed smoothly in one hectic direction. Getting through the gate would be tough, but we'd make it.  
  
When turning a corner and passing some sort of supply store, I noticed a bright flashing of light and the sound of tons of concrete toppling. That was the first time I stopped for anything. Eimour stopped beside me, trying to catch her breath. I knew she was trying to tell me something, but I didn't pay her much attention. She didn't have that high of a regard for me, so what she was going to say more than likely had something to do with turning back, and that wasn't an option.  
  
Upon turning around and actually looking to the skyline that I noticed the explosions weren't that close. I looked up and saw a few airships sending their missiles into some buildings. And it didn't take long to realize that there was opposition to those airships. A bright flash, much like the flash that accompanied an Al Bhed beam cannon, came from somewhere in the distance and the airship was literally sliced in two. The pieces fell slowly towards the ground and it was then that I grabbed Eimour's arm again, much to her displeasure, I'm sure, and ran towards the gate again. Explosions were bad, but falling pieces of airships were probably worse.  
  
All around us was the sense of panic. Shops and homes were being looted, Yevonite soldiers ran all over the place, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, citizens were attacking some of the soldiers, only to be shot on site, and then there was people like Eimour, Gary, and me. Runners. Lots of runners. And we were all heading in the same direction.  
  
A cloud of dust kicked up in front of me and I noticed that a soldier was firing for the looter in front of me. On top of the looter's shoulder was a box of fruit. Not wanting to get shot, I shouldered the looter to the ground and, despite my best effort not to, stepped all over the poor bastard. At least it stopped the soldier from shooting again.  
  
The slower runners, who had elected to take bags and boxes full of personal belongings, were quickly losing their affects and it didn't make traversing the street any easier. The gate was no less than a hundred meters away and that helped ease my mind a bit. My main objective was getting the mother and son to safety. My own regard for safety had left me when I heard that first explosion. I don't know if it was more of my care for the kid and his well-being or my soldierly instincts kicking in. Either way, they were getting through that gate. It was just what was waiting at the gate that caught me off guard.  
  
--------------------  
  
The last thing Rikku had expected to see at Luca's south gate was a rather frantic looking Weston with a kid on his back and a woman attached to his arm. Over the past few days, Gatta, Yuna, Cid, and she had come to think him captured or dead. Now she wondered just what in the world had happened.  
  
Multitudes of planning had gone on during the past four or five days and Rikku had been as pumped about her assignment in the invasion of Luca as she had for her sixteenth birthday. The plan had a sense of grandeur to it and she had convinced herself that it wasn't going to fail, no matter how many mistakes might happen. But Weston had never been a part of that plan, and there he was, staring at her like she was some long-lost cousin.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" he said, the dark haired woman beside him trying to catch her breath. Of course, Weston didn't even seem winded.  
  
"I'd like to ask you the same question!" Rikku replied. While behind her was around five thousand or so Al Bhed troops that she was going to have to manipulate soon, she really wanted to know what had happened to Weston.  
  
"I got...delayed. Listen. I've got important information."  
  
"I'm sure you do. But it's a little late for that."  
  
Weston growled and set the child on his back down. The child wrapped his arms around the woman as Weston spoke. "It's dealing with the position of a growing force of Yevonites. They're massing just south of the 'Calm Lands,' wherever that is. Whenever troops mass, it's not good news. Where's Gatta?"  
  
Rikku blinked, trying to recall the location that Gatta and his Crusaders were going to land at. "Umm...they should be landing at the docks near the stadium now."  
  
At that, the woman who had come with Weston looked up and walked up next to Weston, half looking at him, half looking at the ground. Weston turned to her and asked, "What?"  
  
The woman responded rather meekly, "The stadium...that's where two...'beam cannons' are. They're meant to thwart off an attack."  
  
Both Rikku and Weston knew what that meant: near obliteration for the Crusaders. That couldn't happen.  
  
Weston nodded and looked to Rikku. "I need an auto and a couple of your pistols." He then nodded to the woman and child. "Do you have an airship going back to Besaid?"  
  
Rikku nodded. "We're ferrying men and supplies as we speak. Hold on."  
  
At that, Rikku opened a pouch on the side of her hip and pulled out a communicator. She yelled into it in her native tongue.  
  
"Ruf syho dnebc pylg du Besaid mavd?"  
  
The answer came back, albeit a bit distorted. "Ypuid du mevd uvv uh mycd uha. Fro?"  
  
Rikku responded to the voice. "Oui rumt dryd yencreb. E's lusehk fedr dfu suna byccahkanc vun oui."  
  
"Oac, lussyhtan."  
  
She then put away the communicator and nodded. "Ok, they'll have to come with me." Rikku then remembered Weston's request. She handed him the auto-firing rifle slung around her shoulders and then shrugged.  
  
"I can't do the pistol request right now. You might be able to get a pair from one of my troops."  
  
"I'll make do with this, thanks. Any extra ammo?"  
  
Rikku nodded and unfastened a few of the rectangular clip holders from her belt. "Have you ever fired our new auto-fire weapon yet?"  
  
Weston shook his head. She nodded and tapped the side of the rather long but surprisingly lightweight rifle. "This is the 'bolt.' You only need to pull it back when you load another ammo box. Each ammo box holds about sixty bullets. It may be an auto-fire, but that doesn't mean it'll work by you just holding the trigger down."  
  
"I know. Trust me. No safety or fire rate selection switch?"  
  
Rikku blinked and shrugged. "Nope. No clue what those are..."  
  
Weston sighed and nodded. "Alright. So when I'm out, I just pop another clip into the receiver, pull back the bolt, and I'm ready to go?"  
  
"Pretty much," Rikku replied.  
  
Weston nodded once more. "Ok."  
  
Rikku hmmed. "So I take it you're going to go tell Gatta about the beam cannons?"  
  
To this, Weston laughed. "Oh, I'm sure they already know it. The damn things are firing every five seconds. Can't you hear the 'whoosh' sound?"  
  
She shook her head, which caused him to do the same, but for a different reason. Rikku then walked towards the woman and child. "You're going to be fine. Just come with me and we'll get you to Besaid in no time."  
  
The woman shook her head and looked to Weston, who looked as if he was ready to face the entire Yevonite army. He turned his head and asked, "What?" in a tone that was probably a bit snider than intended.  
  
--------------------  
  
I really didn't want to hear Eimour's squabbling. My body was slowly prepping itself for battle and having her looking at me like I was the last thing in this world keeping her alive didn't help my conscience any.  
  
She put a hand on my shoulder and asked in a surprisingly sweet voice for her, "You're not actually going to fight them, are you?"  
  
I laughed. "Look behind you, Eimour."  
  
She did as I asked.  
  
"For someone who has lived here for so long, you lack a little pride in your city. Right now, those Yevonites are firing on the people with those beam cannons. My fellow troops are firing missiles into some of the buildings. Your fellow city-goers are dying and if I don't hurry up and get to Gatta, the Crusaders with him could be wiped out. That can't happen. Don't worry about me, ok? You and Gary will be safe in Besaid. I've got a home there you can use. It's the only wooden structure on the island. Trust me, it's not hard to miss."  
  
She seemed to understand what I was saying and backed off. Gary didn't, though, and latched onto my leg as if that'd stop me from going into battle.  
  
"Don't go, Daddy! I dun wanna lose you again."  
  
I looked to Eimour and she silently nodded, pulling Gary off of my leg and into her arms, the little tyke weeping rather loudly. Then, I noticed Rikku looking at me rather strangely.  
  
"Shouldn't you...put on some armor, or something?"  
  
I shrugged. "No need. It'd slow me down."  
  
"How about a communicator?"  
  
"What for? I'll get one when I meet up with the Crusaders."  
  
Rikku sighed. "Your death wish."  
  
"Thanks." And with that, I patted Eimour's shoulder, nodded to Rikku and headed off in the opposite direction, watching the fleeing citizens' faces pass by in my peripheral vision.  
  
--------------------  
  
Landing on the docks had proven to be a tough task, thanks to the old and rusty, but still quite effective, Machina attack drones guarding the concrete structures. Gatta had already lost men in the landing process alone. The beam cannons had easily picked off a few of the landing dinghies in their upward-arching beams of death. Now, he and the thirty or so men that had made it with him were pinned down just a few meters away from the side entrance to the stadium. Their mission had been to infiltrate and take the marketplace and docks. The only land they owned right now was the concrete they were pinned down on. A large concrete pillar had toppled in front of the side entrance, most likely due to the shock of bombs exploding somewhere else in the city.  
  
In front of that pillar were two dug in drones, each of them with a multi-barreled "chain-gun" strapped to one of their arms. Their barrage of bullets seemed never ending. As soon as a Crusader would pop up from the felled pillar, a stream of lead would arch their way. Ducking speed was an issue, as Gatta had already learned himself. The only wound he had received while ducking was shards of concrete pelting against his skin as the bullets from the drones ate away at the pillar's side.  
  
Gatta turned around, his back against the pillar, legs on the floor, and looked for arriving Crusaders. He did see a few ducked behind pillars, taking pot shots at the drones, but most were still out in the water, trying to fight the choppy waves and land. Some were even knocked off course. Gatta had to admit, this attack was rushed and sloppy. They'd need major luck if they wanted to win Luca back from Nyka's clutches.  
  
"Sir?" A Crusader crawled over to Gatta, gun slung around to his back.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What are we gonna do about these drones? I mean, if any of the boys get up, their shredded, and we certainly can't charge 'em."  
  
"Very true. We'll just have to sit here until we can think of a way to get around them."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
In all truth, Gatta didn't know when that time would come. Fighting with swords had been much easier, but those were now obsolete, and his Crusaders didn't have the training to deal with a foe with a firearm, let alone a "chain-gun." In all truth, Gatta thought his day had come.  
  
--------------------  
  
I didn't particularly know how far the docks were from the market place, but I did know one thing. The marketplace was littered with soldiers. Maneuvering wasn't very fun. Upon first entering the district, three shots whizzed by my head and I immediately ducked behind a merchant's cart. A few more shots tore into the weak wood built cart and I was running out of cover fast. I half-raised from my crouching position and fired a few of the sub-sonic rounds their way. Two of my shots hit, because you just can't mistake the image of a man flying twenty feet backwards. And I saw two men do just that. But it seemed two more men just seemed to appear in place and a volley of bullets tore into the cart, one of the lead pieces sticking in the side I was behind. Not good.  
  
With as much strength possible, I pushed the cart down and jumped behind a couple of crates, which were immediately disintegrating from the bullets hitting them. Again, not good. I fired from where I was and hit one of the closest Yevonites. With that done, I hurdled what remained of the crates and entered a nearby shop. Bullets thumped into the concrete around the door as I entered, and even more flew into the shop through the large display window to the left of me. My elbows and knees hit the floor, propelling the rest of my body towards the back of the store. I prayed that the store had a back door.  
  
A few more feet and I learned that my prayers had been answered. With much caution, I opened the door slowly, my back against it. It flung open and stopped halfway. My eyes darted all around the area in front of me. No Yevonites. I then cautiously turned around and peeked around to the other side of the alley. No soldiers. I headed the way I had initially faced coming out of the shop, eyes and gun darting all around. Couldn't be too careful, eh?  
  
After snaking my way around the backs of a few shops, the alley decided to end and open me up to a grand view of the stadium. The street the alley connected to was parallel to the stadium and it looked like getting to the docks was going to be tougher than previously thought. As a matter of fact, as I headed down the street, in the direction of the blue, turbulent sea, I met an impressive force of Yevonites. Probably around a hundred of them in all. They were just marching and here I come, gun in hand, ready for them. Of course, that's not a situation a lone soldier can take care of. So, I slowly lowered my weapon to the ground and raised my arms even slower. On of them, I presumed the leader of the band, approached me.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
  
"Uhh..." Apparently, he didn't know that I was fighting for the good guys. Or bad guys. Or whatever we were.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"I was just...walking along and a couple of them Al Bhed fellas kinda knocked me over. I killed the bastards though! Got their weapon! See?"  
  
The soldier stood in silence a moment before breaking out into laughter. His men followed and as they passed my inwardly stunned self, the leader patted me on the soldier and said, "Yevon needs men like you. After we expel these heathens, look us up in the stadium."  
  
I nodded and cocked a smile myself. "Yeah." 'Yeah,' as in I'd be in the stadium but not looking for a job under Nyka's command.  
  
With the band of troops well behind me, I picked up my rifle again and jogged towards the now visible docks. I could hear gunfire emanating in the distance, but I couldn't -see- it, and seeing it helped quite a bit when planning a method of attack. What I could see was a few perched Yevonites on the top of the stadium's wall. Snipers.  
  
Snipers aren't fun, especially when they consist of just the enemy. And they really suck when they've sighted you and taking pot shots at you as you run towards your objective. That's just what they were doing too. I had found a path that lead directly to the docks. The problem was, the snipers had a clear line right to my forehead. I had to run all over the place, shots hitting in front of me or behind me or beside me. One shot was so close, the wind from the air being displaced around it made my ear twitch. Once more, not good. Imagine feeling like one of those ducks in a shooting gallery. Yeah, that was me.  
  
Eventually, I found some cover in the form of an emptied bar. I was close to the docks, but I had to catch my breath before I started dodging bullets again. The bar, apparently littered with Yevonite soldiers before the attack started, was still occupied by the elderly man working the counter.  
  
"Can I help you?" asked the bartender.  
  
I shook my head. He seemed to know what I was up to. "Them snipers will get ya, fella. I've seen them practicing before. Can hit an ale glass from way up there.  
  
I nodded and peeked out of the door. "Haven't gotten me yet, old man."  
  
"You with Yuna?" he asked.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"You the ones attackin?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Well, good luck. I really don't like them Yevonites. Always so pushy."  
  
"Uh huh. Well, bye old man, time for me to dodge some bullets."  
  
As I ducked back into the path, immediately sparking a renewed firing from the snipers, I heard the old man say, "Good luck, son."  
  
I'd really need it to get out of this situation.  
  
--------------------  
  
"Hey, sir!"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Isn't that...?"  
  
"Weston!" Gatta yelled, looking at the path running parallel to the docks. Sure enough, Weston was moving side to side as he ran, dodging the bullets from the snipers. Gatta motioned to a few of his soldiers and a barrage of high-velocity lead arced its way towards the snipers. Soon, Weston didn't have to do much dodging. From where the Crusaders were pinned down, they had a perfect line of sight upwards to the top of the stadium, where the snipers were perched. They didn't even have to expose themselves to the machina drones to fire on the sharpshooters. Meanwhile, Weston had found a spot to leap over into the path leading to the stadium. He started heading towards the men.  
  
Gatta whistled to Weston and told him to hold his position. Weston blinked and stopped, not sure of what was going on. By way of Gatta's next hand signal, and the eruption of a hot stream of lead heading his way, he knew why the men were there. After hitting the floor, Weston crawled his way to Gatta's side and simply asked, "Pinned down, eh?"  
  
Gatta nodded. "Damn things can our every move and never seem to run out of ammo."  
  
Weston hmmed. "I'm sure they'll run out, but if my guess is correct, they've got a very long chain of ammo. And if they're machines..."  
  
"They are," Gatta replied.  
  
"Then they're bound to be using some sort of motion detection. Let me test a theory..." At that, Weston picked up a small piece of concrete lying near him and flung it to the side. The piece of concrete disintegrated in mid-air before the sound of the firing guns ever hit the soldiers' ears. Weston's eyes had followed the chunk's journey and then hmmed, a finger lifting to his chin. Gatta leaned over to him and whispered a question.  
  
"What did that prove?"  
  
"That the mounted guns aren't using thermal imaging to track targets. It's solely based on motion. Of course, that doesn't help us any."  
  
Gatta raised a brow, no knowing exactly what his friend was getting at. "So what does all that mean?"  
  
Weston laughed and picked up another chunk on concrete. He handed it to Gatta with a smile. "Throw this towards the water. I'm going to try something else."  
  
"You sure?" Gatta didn't like the look in Weston's eyes.  
  
"Yeah. Ready?"  
  
Gatta nodded.  
  
In less than a second, Weston had raised himself on his haunches, back of his feet meeting his buttocks. He yelled, "Now!" and Gatta tossed the piece of concrete towards the right of their position. The guns caught the more obvious movement on the concrete and Weston fired a burst of the hyper-sonic bullets into the left drone's dome. The upper dome, where Weston had guessed the sensing technology was placed, had only one or two pieces left attached to the drone after the burst. Weston quickly ducked, avoiding the other drone's fire and nodded to Gatta.  
  
Gatta then looked to his rather shocked men. "You know what to do! DO IT!"  
The men followed his orders. In seconds, chunks of loosened concrete were flying towards the sea and the remaining drone didn't have a chance. The entire squad, Gatta and Weston included, released a volley of automatic fire that ripped both drones to minute pieces.  
  
Satisfied, Gatta hurdled the fallen concrete column and rolled his right arm, motioning for his men to follow. Weston let each of the men go before hurdling the column himself. Gatta quickly formed the men into a two- column battle formation and took point, Weston taking the rear.  
  
The stadium's lobby was empty, and Gatta noticed that the large building had taken a few missile hits, more than likely an Al Bhed airship trying, as futile as it may have been, to take down the beam cannons.  
  
Gatta stopped in the middle of the lobby, most of the men behind him shocked to see the stadium in such disarray. Many of them were avid followers of Blitzball and seeing the place they came to so often crumbling apart didn't help ease their worries any. Gatta seemed to realize this -he himself shocked at the destruction- and decided to split the men up. He ordered for the columns to separate, and the men obliged. Weston stood off to the side, watching as the columns widen the gap between them.  
  
"Ok, guys, one of the columns will follow me. The other will follow Weston," Gatta yelled over the sounds of the firing cannons and crumbling buildings.  
  
Weston was already in front of the right column. He looked to Gatta.  
  
"What's the plan?"  
  
It didn't take Gatta but a second to answer him. "My group will take the locker rooms. You and your men head upstairs to the balconies. Find a way to stop those cannons. I'll meet you up there."  
  
Weston nodded and jogged his column up the stairs to the left of the lobby, leading to the upper-most stands. Gatta moved his squad down the walkway to the right, and the men filed single-file into the narrow hallway.  
  
In front of Gatta and his men were two doors on either side of the hallway, leading into their respective locker rooms and a large door on the opposite end of the hall, one that led into the playing-sphere.  
  
Gatta turned to his men and motioned for the ten men squad to split in half. He extended his arms and wiped his hands downward against the sides of the hall, telling the two groups of men that they were to "sweep" the two locker rooms and "clean" them if they must. Of course, what he meant was "search and destroy." The squads would barge into the rooms and kill all opposition, thus allowing control of the area to go to them.  
  
The men nodded their acknowledgement and went about their business. Gatta followed a group of men into the left side locker room. Upon entering the room, the men fanned out in an arrow shape, a "battle formation" of sorts that left them in support of each other, but not as bunched up as a marching column would be. Gatta covered their rear. Fortunately, the room was empty. And the room itself didn't resemble a locker room anymore. The room had been converted into a makeshift barracks, bunked cots lining the walls and covering the middle of the room where benches had once been.  
  
The cots had hastily been left without being made, thus making Gatta presume that the soldiers had left in rather a hurry. He tapped the closest man's helmet and motioned with the tilting of his head for the men to follow him back out. As he had suspected, mainly by the lack of gunfire, the other group of men had run into the same situation in the opposite locker room.  
  
Low and behold, the other group of men was waiting in the hallway. Gatta nodded to them and held up four fingers.  
  
"Need four volunteers to stay behind and guard the area."  
  
Within a few seconds, Gatta had his four men and posted two to a locker room.  
  
"The rest of you, follow me to the stands."  
  
And with that, Gatta, men in tow, jogged towards their next objective.  
  
--------------------  
  
Making our way up the stairs was easy. Sure, there wwere a lot of stairs to climb. Didn't seem to faze the men behind me, so my respect for the Crusaders' physical stamina training grew a bit. Not to say they were perfect little soldiers, but they'd get the job done.  
  
Of course, when I found myself crossing into the cemented stands, I also found myself staring into the faces of at least a hundred Yevonites. Apparently, since that whole "missile" incident in Kilika, they had grown weary of the possibilities of surprises. I had to admit that I was the one surprised now.  
  
I backtracked towards the stairs, rocks tearing into the concrete situated to the right, left, and below me. The men behind me did the same, and we soon found ourselves running back down the stairs. I wasn't going to try to macho my way out of this situation. Eleven men against a whole company of the enemy was...shit out of luck.  
  
It was rather funny when we met Gatta and his men, who were trying to get -up- the stairs while we were hightailing it -down- them. I stopped only a stair short of knocking the shorter Gatta backwards.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked, incredulously.  
  
"Going to find another way to those beam cannons. Hundred or more men protecting the stands."  
  
Gatta nodded.  
  
I wasn't really satisfied with a nod. "You have one of those communicator things on you?"  
  
Gatta nodded again and pulled one of the oval shaped semi-clear contraptions from his side pouch. "Just talk into it."  
  
"No button on it, no frequency?"  
  
"Just talk," he repeated in response.  
  
And I did. "Yo, Rikku, you out there?"  
  
After a few moments of silence, I asked again. I heard a bunch of static-shrouded yells in that odd Al Bhed language. They were distant, but clearly coming from the radio and not outside. That meant that the Al Bhed -and- their lovely artillery were far out of the range I needed them to be in.  
  
As I was about to yell into the little egg again, I heard Rikku's voice come over the radio. She sounded as if she didn't have time to talk. I could imagine she was entirely too busy to send troops and possibly one of those mech things my way, but I could at least try.  
  
"Yeah, Weston?"  
  
"Glad you recognized me. I need some help."  
  
"Not a lot I can do about that right now."  
  
"Do you have any of those mech things I can borrow?"  
  
"They're kinda busy at the moment."  
  
And I could tell she was telling the truth. I had seen one of the mechs when I met up with her near the gate. They were odd looking, strangely round in the middle with a small head. They were tall though, and on each arm was mounted a Vulcan-six barreled machine gun, giving the round mechanical walker a formidable appearance. I could hear barrages of gun fire erupting at all decibel levels over the small communicator.  
  
"Thanks anyway."  
  
"Yeah," she replied with, and with that, I handed the communicator back to Gatta. I assumed he knew the situation for the little "egg" could drown out a jet engine starting up.  
  
"Well, now what?" he asked.  
  
I shrugged. "We could wait for them. Sounds like the Al Bhed are facing some heavy stuff. It might be awhile before we hear anything from Rikku. You have any ideas?"  
  
The men all looked to Gatta as if waiting for their leader to say something heroic, wise, or unforgettable. But, instead, the smaller man shrugged. "I don't have damned clue."  
  
I thought a moment. "Are there any other entrances to the stands?"  
  
One of the men, who was shorter than even Gatta, spoke up. "There's one from the base of the stadium, sir."  
  
Gatta sighed. "Teffa, that set of stairs in on the other end of the stadium."  
  
"Yes, sir," the young man said.  
  
"Hold on a minute, Gatta," I interjected. "He may be on to something. Teffa, was it?"  
  
The young man nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, sir!"  
  
"If you take point and lead us there, we'll go."  
  
Teffa nodded and started rushing down the stairs at a speed I don't think most track runners could match. The small man was fast, and I followed, as best I could, behind him, hearing the others trail behind shortly after.  
  
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Rikku didn't like the way the battle for the residential area was going. There were Yevonites infecting buildings left and right, firing their weapons from well-concealed positions behind windows and doors, even roofs.  
  
Rikku hadn't come to Luca to destroy the buildings, but it looked as if she'd eventually have to resort to that. Her troops fought with voracity, but they were sitting ducks for the sharpshooters littering the apartment buildings and shops. The mechs had taken care of most of the Yevonites in the streets, but the clumsy aiming the mechs possessed didn't allow them to be able to pinpoint one solider hiding in a window. Rikku was sending squad after squad of men into the buildings, but since the structures were so cluttered and large, the squads were failing miserably. So, it was with reluctance that she ordered the first tread-mounted beam cannon to fire on a large inn on the right side of the road. Soldiers were firing from the inn from every window. The concentrated energy beam took care of that, though. Within a two-second interval after the shot was made, the entire first floor of the inn was merely dust, and the building began to topple.  
  
The terrified screams emanating from the building didn't help to ease Rikku's conscience, which was already stained with the images of torn bodies and the smell of burnt, tattered, and torn flesh that shrouded the streets in a putrid fog. Thanks to the adrenaline flowing through her and, she guessed, her troops, the acrid odors weren't affecting their stomachs quite yet. She supposed that the smell would get worse as the battle waged on.  
  
Another building was soon fired upon by the mobile cannons and it too toppled with great might, leaving all those within it dead or trapped and dying. Moans, screams, and prayers filled the air as she and the treaded vehicle she was sitting atop slowly inched forward, meeting every bit of opposition the Yevonites could throw at them.  
  
While Rikku did sense that her large group of troops and artillery were in fact winning the fight for land, she noticed how much that land cost both sides, and it sickened her. How civilized people who had lived under the shadow of a great enemy only three years ago could so mercilessly kill and so easily give their lives in a political struggle really weighed on her mind. Something had changed within her with the first order she'd given that day. The dead bodies littering the streets were her fault, since she was the highest in command at the moment. She had made the decision, in anger, to lead this assault, and she knew she'd forever be scarred by that decision. But, she was there, she had given that first order, and there was nothing she could do but let fate and the courage of those fighting under her command decide the outcome of the day.  
  
As the men around her vehicle continued to find and shoot the Yevonite foot soldiers and her deadly beam cannons continue to level Yevonite infested buildings, Rikku wondered if her, as well as Spira's innocence would ever return.  
  
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So there we were, standing in shock, as we witnessed what the Yevonites had done to the stadium. Gone was the Blitz sphere. It had been torn down and the concrete foundation it had built on was being used to park the two airships stolen from the Al Bhed. Of course, most of them men, if not all, were angered by what they saw. The Yevonites had torn down the most revered structure in Spira for their own personal use. Gone was the center of Spira's only form of entertainment, in its place was a makeshift landing pad. Needless to day, the morale of the men behind Gatta and me didn't need any boosting. Their anger was enough. With that in mind, I decided that now was the time to start flanking the assholes protecting the cannons.  
  
The stadium was circular, so all the stands connected to each other. While it'd leave everyone of us quite open to attack, if we could gather the speed and hit them both at once, on every side, we could possibly take them by surprise enough to gain the upper hand. Of course, a diversion doesn't hurt, and that's exactly what I volunteered to do.  
  
So, at the last minute, I informed Gatta of my idea and, despite his qualms about my involvement, went with it. It was a rather simple plan. I was to start firing on the Yevonite company from the opposite end of the stadium, drawing their fire my way. If at all possible, I'd then hide behind some seats and try to lure them around to my position. I wasn't going to be without protection. On either side of me, lying in wait, were going to be the men, their automatic weapons ready to dispatch the poor souls ordered to get me. An ambush, though, usually had ways of going awry and I couldn't think of a contingency. Oh well, an honorable death for us, in that case.  
  
The Yevonites had their backs to us, so actually getting up to the same level of stands wasn't hard at all. I suspected that seeing me had sparked some interest in their numbers and I then assumed that they were waiting on me to pop my head back out. At least I'd have some element of surprise when I started firing...  
  
With as little noise as humanly possible, we made our way to the top level, and the squads, Gatta including himself in the far right group, split up on either side of me. I sighed and brought my automatic rifle's stock to my cheek. Regardless of the fact that I was about to provoke a lot of lead to come my way, I took the time to study the details with the rifle in my hands. What can I say? I like guns.  
  
The stock, if you could call it that, consisted of two steel rods that had a muted-yellow plastic butte plate attached at their end, making for a rather comfortable fit against the crook of my arm. On the left side of the end closest to the shooter of the gun was another piece of plastic, ergonomically shaped to fit most cheek bones. Again, this was comfortable and I appreciated the Al Bheds and their attention to detail. The body of the gun was a mixture of cold, gray metal (I assumed an alloy since it had a glittery appearance) and bits of ergonomically placed dull-yellow plastic. The Al Bhed apparently didn't have much time for trying to create weapons that would be well hidden in combat situations. Either way, the gun's metal was hard and cool, just like the blue steel associated with most World War Two weapons. I assumed the Al Bhed had not yet mastered polymers, since most guns in my era were teetering towards plastic shells with metal innards and the rifle in my hands reminded me more of an AK or M16A1 than, say, an Aug or the HK G36. Not necessarily by looks but more in its metal to plastic ratio. On top was a lovely aiming/gripping handle, much like on a Colt assault rifle, and the trigger was very thick and curved, easily fitting any size finger. The trigger guard was tight, only allowing enough room for one finger. Smart move, in my opinion. No one wanted someone to get their finger in the guard while their own finger was on the trigger in melee combat. The magazine slot was right in front of the trigger guard, allowing for a large and ergonomic dull-yellow grip piece to be installed under the base of the gun. The grip itself looked rather flimsy, and I imagined it easily came off for some sort of modification. Another dull-yellow grip piece was placed under the barrel, its shape a half-crescent moon leading into a straight line, giving the gun a sleek look in that regard. I suppose they wanted to leave enough grip options open for different shooting styles. Again, a smart move, since the weapon was so big. By big, I'm talking at least four feet long with stock rods fully extracted, three with stock retracted. The rifle was rather heavy as well, seeing as it held all the technology responsible for the ultrasonic bullet speed. The Al Bhed had done their homework, it seemed. Either that, or they constantly needed to protect themselves. I'd have to ask them about a smaller version after the battle ended.  
  
One thing the long barrel and bulky frame didn't detract from was the gun's accuracy. It was pretty much dead on. This I instantly noticed when I opened fire on the crowded Yevonites. Instead of a normal explosion sound, the gun emitted a "pssh" usually associated with electrical surges or flash electrical fires. Two or three men were thrown back by the ultrasonic rounds and the rest decided to turn. Instinctively, I ducked behind the concrete slab in front of me, but not without getting a slug through my shoulder first. Guess I was getting a little slow.  
  
Apparently, they had thought they'd gotten me. I informed them of otherwise by lifting the gun in a suppression fire maneuver, where the only body parts exposed were my hands. The point of suppressive fire was to make your opponent duck, giving you the upper hand by allowing you to then stand up and fire off the first shot when said opponent tried to return fire.  
  
But I wasn't going to be sitting up. The slug had gone clear through the meat of my shoulder, and I have to say that it hurt rather badly. Actually, it felt as if someone had just set fire to my entire left side. Not a good thing.  
  
With blood pouring down both the front and back of my left shoulder, I hoisted the gun up once more and fired onto the group of Yevonites, trying not to allow my shoulder to give out. The Yevonites had then had enough and decided to look for me. In a few moments, multiple "pssh" sounds erupted and bodies were flying left and right. I slowly sat up, ignoring the thumping pain in my shoulder and fired a burst on the group as well.  
  
Thanks to the surprise element, we had dwindled their numbers down tremendously. I counted only fifteen or so escaping upwards to the beam cannons. The men around me all stood from their crouched positions, a couple offering me their hands. I shook my head in response and stood up, trying not to wince. Yeah, so I was trying to be a man about it. Can you blame me?  
  
I followed the squad on the right while Gatta led his squad towards the balcony. After only a few minutes, we were converged at the stairs leading to the roof. The stairs were narrow and would only allow a single- file attack line. That didn't bode well for us.  
  
"Teffa!" I called.  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
"Take lead. You're fast."  
  
"Yes, sir!"  
  
And with that, the short soldier made his way up the stairs with a speed I'd never seen a human possess up until then. The soldier closest to me, one closer to my height, noticed my shoulder wound.  
  
"You need a potion, sir."  
  
I looked to my shoulder and then the soldier. "Yeah, I do. But let's wait until we've gotten these beam cannons under out of commission."  
  
The soldier nodded and I turned back in time to see Teffa jump forward at the top of the stairs. With that, Gatta yelled the order to follow. The men complied.  
  
The thing about firefights that everyone seems to get misconstrued is that winning is up to the side with more soldiers. That may be true, say, if this were the Civil War and the armies lined up at point-blank range to fire on each other. Thankfully, in World War One, the army adopted the German's "trench" style warfare in which it was every man for himself as far as cover was concerned, even if those men were all working for the same goal. In the pre-World War One American military you didn't have much of a chance to survive, especially if you were in that front line. While being in front -still- sucks, you have more of a chance to survive if you've been trained to find cover and save your own ass, all the while, dwindling the enemy's ranks. If you count up ten kills to every soldier in a squad, that's a hell of a lot of kills. And if every man survives, then you're in even better shape. War wasn't necessarily a game of numbers anymore, and seeing Teffa jump, fire, and then find cover for himself confirmed that. Despite the fact that these men hadn't had much training in warfare dealing with projectile weapons, they were adapting and holding their own, and that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The more confidence you have in your fellow soldiers, the more confidence you have that you'll prevail.  
  
The warm and fuzzy feeling soon gave way to urgency, because having bullets whiz by your head at immeasurable speeds tends to be a real buzz kill. I soon found myself running like a madman to make it to some flimsy crates near the first beam cannon. Why the wooden and "obviously not built to withstand being hit by lots of bullets" crates? Probably because five men were already behind them, including Teffa and Gatta. I don't know what it is about crowds, but being in one in battle seemed to make you feel better than being alone. Besides, the only other cover available at the time was a dead Yevonite's body, and I didn't feel pissing the Yevonites off even further.  
  
I knelt next to Gatta, keeping my head down, but soon the guards protecting the first beam cannon drew their fire back to the stairs. Real smart. Teffa, Gatta, and I, along with the other two guys with us all stood and fired a deadly volley of bullet-bursts into their line, decimating it. A few of the enemy soldiers' bodied hit the metallic hull of the mobile cannons with a dull clang that certainly didn't sound natural. This seemed to get the attention of the beam cannon's operators, for the "FSSH" sound of the cannon ceased for a few moments. With that in mind, I jumped the crates and ran toward the large weapon, killing a couple of the enemy on my way. The bad news was that I didn't know how to get into the damned cannon. The good news was that one of its operators was trying to get out, and I saw the well-hidden hatch shaking. Bingo.  
  
Three of my ultrasonic rounds collided with the hatch and the force of the bullets made the square piece of metal implode on it self, turning the hatch into a grotesquely oversized bullet itself. I didn't particularly want to see what it had done to the occupant, but I'd have to if I was going to stop the cannon from firing.  
  
Or so I thought. The firing of the high-energy beam stopped and I clearly heard that funky Al Bhed language being screamed within the cannon's hull. I stopped next to the now open hatch and listened.  
  
The voice seemed half-angry and have sad. I heard a stressed but somewhat muffled "Pnudran! Pnudran!"  
  
I had no clue what that meant, but I wasn't there to ask questions. With a wince, I hurdled myself right into the hull of the tank, my boots clunking against metal, and something sickeningly soft and wet. I didn't think to look down because in front of me was a rather shocked Al Bhed. Blonde hair, goggles, speaking that odd language.  
  
Did I just engage in friendly fire? It couldn't have been, because the cannon and its companion, which was still active, was firing away from the beginning and I know Rikku's forces were taking care of the residential area. I really, really didn't like what this implicated.  
  
With my attention back to the current situation, I plugged the Al Bhed in the kneecap, but without the result I was looking for. Apparently I had missed the kneecap and the lightning fast bullet from my gun had gone through the guy's tendons and ligaments. Due to its high velocity, the bullet didn't have time to stick around and ricocheted into the front controls for the cannon -from what I could gather that is, I certainly wasn't qualified to name the parts of the Al Bhed made cannon-. With an electrical pop, the lights within the hull shut off and the only source of light left was coming in from the hole were the hatch had been. I could hear footsteps on the outside of the cannon, and stuck my head out. Gatta tilted his head.  
  
"Good job, I think."  
  
"Yeah, but you're not going to like what I have to tell you."  
  
He raised a brow and I reached back into the hull, picking up the now screaming Al Bhed. The gasps from Gatta and his men were rather audible, even over the woosh of the remaining beam cannon and the distant but still heavy thuds of Rikku's fight on the other end of town. I tossed the still yelling cannon operator onto the concrete roof of the stadium right in front of Gatta. It was then when I realized why the guy was going on and on with his screaming act. The bullet had severed most of his shin from his thigh. Only a few slivers of flesh were keeping it attached. Gatta bent down and examined the wound, then the soldier's face.  
  
"I don't like this. I really don't like this." Gatta said under his breath. The men rubbernecked over his shoulder to take a gander at the Al Bhed, who was slowly realizing that he was in deep trouble. I pointed my bulky rifle at him and held a finger to my lips. He seemed to get the message and quieted down.  
  
Gatta looked up to me. "What do we do with him?"  
  
"What do you think? Heal the prick and interrogate."  
  
Gatta looked back to the nearly amputated leg and the back to me. "You call his wound a 'prick?'"  
  
I shook my head. "Never mind. Just use one of those potion things and heal him."  
  
Gatta laughed. "Maybe if we had a white mage with us, sure. A simple potion isn't going to help him unless you want to close up the remainder of his leg."  
  
"Do what you have to. We need him alive because you know as well as I do what him firing on us means."  
  
Gatta sighed and nodded. "That either there are traitors in the Al Bhed army or..."  
  
"I don't think there's anything else we can think of right now," I said, noticing a patch on the Al Bhed's upper left arm. I patted it with the barrel of my gun and nodded to Gatta. "Take a look at this. Any idea what it is or what it means?"  
  
Gatta leaned over the quieted cannon operator and took a look at the patch. "The symbol of Yevon," he said, the realization slowly starting to settle in.  
  
I shrugged. "Then our prisoner has some explaining to do."  
  
With a heavy sigh, Gatta looked over his shoulder and ordered two men to administer all potions necessary to keep our little friend alive. As they walked over to the traitor, Gatta stood and looked inside the small rectangular opening left by the hatch.  
  
Before I could warn him what he was going to see, he turned around quickly, looking as if he was trying his best to hold back whatever it was he had eaten before the battle began.  
  
As I watched the two soldiers care to the prisoner, I tapped Gatta on the shoulder. I held up my index finger and said, "One more to go. Ready?"  
  
He nodded and ordered the rest of the men to follow us. It wasn't long before we hit another patch of Yevonite guards. Good thing they didn't know we were coming. They were only about twenty men strong and had their backs turned to us, walking towards the beam cannon on the opposite end of the roof facing the rest of Luca.  
  
Now, I know, it's never been known as "honorable" to shoot somebody in the back. In war, however, honor has no face. And it was with that thought in our minds that we gunned down the lot of the soldiers. Battlefield hatred? Maybe. Sadistic pleasure in our job? Possibly. Necessity? Definitely. If you didn't kill them, they'd eventually kill you. That's why I've never felt the need for silly and outdated "honor codes" on battlefields. It's you, or them, and ever single damn advantage and surprise attack you can take, you better fucking take it or you'll be dead quicker than the Macarena. Murders, heartless killers, tyrants, we've heard it all before. But when it comes down to it, shoot or be shot, kill or be killed. It just wasn't their lucky day. War was hell and that was the truth. You didn't need a bleeding heart when you were engaged in battle. And if you don't like it, then you're jaded and unrealistic. Man is animal enough to kill without evocation. Nyka certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about killing without a reason.  
  
Anyway, we jogged the rest of the way to the remaining beam cannon, and in a scene straight from my not so distant past, we all lined up, shoulder-to-shoulder, and filled the large, metal weapon full of holes. When the firing was over, a couple of soldiers took a gander inside and didn't seem very stable upon exiting the hull of the cannon.  
  
"Targets eliminated," one said, barely able to keep his voice from wavering. Gatta nodded them off and, exhausted, the men asked to have a little break. We granted them that privilege. The roof was ours, the cannons were out of commission, and we had a lovely package for Rikku. I had little doubt that the revelation of traitors among the ranks would make quite a stir among Yuna and her camp. I just didn't want to think of what would happen if the word spread past the twenty or so men following Gatta and I.  
  
I leaned against the side of the disabled cannon and set my bulky weapon next to me, leaning it barrel down against the tread of the tank- like cannon. Gatta chose a spot close to me and I noticed that the two soldiers we left with the traitor were making their way towards us, the Al Bhed cannon operator slung fireman style over one of the men's shoulder.  
  
"Mission accomplished and not a damn thing to do but wait," I remarked.  
  
"We could always help Rikku," he replied  
  
"Yeah, and I imagine we will soon enough. Sounded like she really needed help back there on the communicator."  
  
"Yeah. Let's head back towards the residential area after this little break."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," I said. But, it was too little too late for making plans to help Rikku.  
  
It's funny, to me, that in the face of death, most people see their life flash before their eyes, pray to whatever deity they follow, and generally panic. Me? I just sat there, staring at the airship that had formerly been parked where the Blitz sphere used to be. It was hovering right in front of us and I knew that death was soon coming. And what was I doing in my last few moments? Wondering whether or not I could cripple the airship before I was blown to smithereens.  
  
The missiles fired, creating gray clouds behind them. Time slowed and I noticed the men in various positions of surprise, panic, or solemn realization. Gatta was probably thinking along my thoughts because I saw his hand reaching for his gun. But the speed of the missile was too great for us to do much about it. It seemed a fitting end, since we had done the same thing to the Yevonites in Kilika.  
  
You know what they say. An eye for an eye.  
  
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A/N: Woo, fun chapter to write. This is actually just half of the chapter I originally started writing for Chapter 18, but I wanted to milk the 20 thousand something words with as many chapters as possible hehe. Another reason for me cutting it off is the focus the next segment (and chapter) takes. Welp, off to finish Chapter 19 and probably 20A while I'm at it. I'll probably post them both at the same time, if Shad doesn't mind betaing two things at once ^__^  
  
Many thanks to Shad for continually betaing my chapters. There'd be a heck of a lot more errors in this otherwise! Thanks to Jave and Artemis for helping me brainstorm ideas for this, past, and upcoming chappies! And thanks to all you readers who continue to leave me such nice reviews ^__^ ~ No One 


	19. Chapter 19: Bloody Footprints

Chapter 19: Bloody Footprints  
  
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"He who dies a thousand deaths meets the final hour with the calmness of one who approaches a well remembered door." Heywood Brown  
  
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The silence was thick between the two sides of the street, not one sound echoing off of the shattered buildings but the vehicle's monotonic hum. In front of the rolling machina lay the path to the Mi'ihen Highroad. Rikku's mission was complete. The Yevonite soldiers were driven out of Luca. Nyka's force had been decimated and Rikku hadn't had the heart to chase down the soldiers escaping up the Highroad. The battle was over and Yuna's forces had won.  
  
'But at what cost?' she asked herself upon dismounting the tank-like vehicle. Rikku walked a few steps before the reality of the battle hit her. A wall of putrid odor and tortured groans hit her so hard that she almost lost her balance. Wobbling, she made her way back to the vehicle and leaned against it, trying to get the stinging scent of charred flesh and blood out of her mouth. Every gust of ocean wind brought not the pleasant smell of saltwater, but the rusty smell of blood. Her eyes watered and her nose wrinkled. The horrors of war were known only after the fighting had stopped, and Rikku was then full aware of her surroundings.  
  
The tattered bodies of both the Al Bhed and Yevonite soldiers littered the street. Blood ran like water in some places, the ruddy liquid flowing slowly along the city's drainage ducts and pooling in the middle of the street.  
  
Rikku finally composed herself enough to survey the damage done to the buildings on either side of the street. Entire floors were gone from once extravagant buildings, and most, if not all of the nearby windows were lying in shards on the ground. As she slowly walked forward, trying to keep her eyes from the dead and wounded soldiers, she watched as her boots clopped into puddle after puddle of blood, some of it deep enough to splash her ankles and even her shins. It sickened her to no end. The end result of her impromptu and anger-induced deployment of troops had left hundreds of men dead, and each of those puddles of blood had, essentially, been her fault.  
  
The consequences of her actions were sinking into her already heavy heart, almost to the point that she had to gasp to catch any breath in her lungs. She could see many of her own soldiers walking around, tending to the wounded with potions and remedies. Everywhere she looked, she could see shoeprints marked in blood, and she knew she was making them herself.  
  
It reminded her of an Al Bhed proverb she heard years ago. "Druca fru fyka fyn mayja pmuuto vuudbnehdc." Translated to Spiran, that meant "Those who wage war leave bloody footprints." The phrase had meant nothing to Rikku those many years ago, but upon seeing the aftermath of the nearly five-hour-long struggle to claim the marketplace, she knew the author had seen in his life exactly what she was seeing then. Dead comrades and foes alike littered the streets, some stuck in that final moment of surprise, others looking rather peaceful. After seeing two bodies, one of a Yevonite, the other of an Al Bhed locked together, still looking as if they were in the midst of a struggle over life and death, Rikku noticed one chilling fact: in life, the Yevonite and the Al Bhed soldier had been enemies, but they were brothers now...brothers in death.  
  
Death was all around Rikku. It was in the streets, the crumbling buildings, and even in the now nearly destroyed stadium. She looked at the smoking structure in the distance and a tear fell down her cheek.  
  
It had been nearly three hours since she witnessed the roof of the stadium obliterated by an airship's missiles. She had tried for at least an hour to reach Weston or Gatta on the communicator, but to no avail. The remaining Crusaders had joined up with her Al Bhed force after fighting their way from the docks to the residential area. Without a leader to guide them, Rikku split the three hundred or so men up and sent one hundred and fifty of them to deal with the South Gate evacuations and the other one hundred and fifty stayed with the Al Bhed to support the fighting in the marketplace.  
  
Of the supporting Crusaders, not many were left, since most of them had volunteered to lead the charge in the marketplace. But Rikku noticed that the few that -were- left weren't just sitting around. They were helping clean the dead and wounded from the streets and sweeping the buildings to make sure that no sleeper Yevonite squads were left. She had to admit that the men were brave, despite their overall lack of experience in battle. Then again, who was she trying to kid? Never before had the Al Bhed or Crusaders dealt with something as devastating as man-on-man war. Most of the soldiers fighting for Yuna had been used to hearing of and expecting to fight Sinspawn and fiends, not their fellow humans.  
  
Rikku had known, though, from the beginning of Yuna's "Eternal Calm" that something else would come along. No longer in arms together against Sin, a universal and world threatening enemy, those who had built their life upon the belief in Yevon or the threat of Sin would be without something to worry about, and from there, only bickering could be spawned. Being the positive thinker she had been, though, Rikku had never expected something on the level as the actions of the past few months to arrive so soon. She had hoped that peace could reign for ages before some leader got power hungry. What was hope for peace if not every single living person wanted it? She didn't have a clue, but she now hoped for something different. Rikku hoped that if people learned anything from the horror of war, it'd be the value of peace and harmony among differing people. Only time would tell, though, and time was something that had run out for the men lying dead in front of her. Utterly dissatisfied with herself and the world around her, Rikku escaped to the cold, gray interior of her machina vehicle and wept in solitude.  
  
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Never had Fagan felt so alive. In front of him lay a dense jungle with a solitary dirt path intermingled with the large undergrowth. He could see every little detail; he could feel the warm and humid breeze flowing through the trees; and he could hear the wildlife vividly. In every respect, he -was- alive; however, when Fagan reached up to his right temple, he could clearly feel liquid flowing from a rather large wound. Apparently, his "return" to the living hadn't quite cured his body of all its ailments just yet. As a matter of fact, he noticed that the wound had been bleeding for quite some time, and every step he took left a rusty- colored shoe print in the dirt.  
  
Knowing that a walking "corpse" would unnerve most people, Fagan ripped a sleeve from his shirt, which took a few minutes of coaxing on its own, and wrapped the torn cloth around his head. He had no clue whether anyone knew he was dead, or cared. There was much doubt in Fagan's mind that the Crusaders and Yuna's little camp would care much about his death. But, his newfound "life" came with a price: Nyka's head.  
  
It was a price that he would gladly pay, of course. The only problem was how to go about actually accomplishing the payment. Whoever had sent him back, Fagan knew, had the power to take and give life. Thusly, they were more than likely some form of deity. Still, it didn't matter. Fagan was back on Spira, slowly making his way towards Besaid Village. He had his mission and all he had to do was follow it. Thinking about it all would just complicate the process and Fagan didn't need complications. He had already died over a complication; he didn't want to repeat it.  
  
On he trudged, leaving rust-colored footprints and his thoughts behind. A few meters up the path was Besaid Village, its temple lying just at the head of the main path. Even though he had never even been to the small island village, he knew exactly where to go. A gift from those above, he guessed.  
  
Again, thoughts of the whole situation popped up in his head, and to clear them, he let his eyes wander to the beautiful and thick jungle that lined the pathway. It was like nothing he had seen before. A land not touched by civilization, a land that held great wonder and great danger. An untamed, free land that hadn't a worry in the world save the weather conditions. And to a point, this made Fagan jealous.  
  
Nature, to Fagan, was once just a gift from Yevon. Now, it was a free, unbridled, and wild element of the earth, free from tyranny, emotional strain, and the depressing facts of war. A tree, bird, piece of foliage, or small forest animal had no goals in life other than to live, eat, and pass on to the next generation. Nature needed no deity to survive. It only needed itself. Independent from the worries of human life, Nature was the ultimate example of harmony. Everything had a purpose, everything fit together, and nothing went to waste.  
  
As Fagan saw the jungle thin out, he wished he could walk that jungle path over and over for the rest of eternity. It was the only serenity he had felt in years, and he knew that once he started down the path leading to Besaid Village that serenity would be something he'd never experience again.  
  
Still, Fagan continued, not one to go back on his word. He remembered a phrase he had heard a priest say once: "He who giveth, taketh away." Fagan didn't want his powerful benefactors angry, seeing as they could probably snatch him back up to the afterlife just as quickly as they had let him escape from it.  
  
Fagan stiffened his back, turned his head, and waved goodbye to the jungle and his bloody footprints. He then faced the village in front of him and trudged on, not taking his eyes off of the Temple.  
  
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Tidus slowly snuck his way along the stone wall separating him from Yuna's room. He could hear crackling noises and muffled voices coming from the doorway. Tidus didn't want to interrupt Yuna if she was busy, but in all honesty, he didn't care if she was busy or not. With as little noise as possible, he pressed his back against the door and inched it open.  
  
It didn't surprise him to see Yuna standing tensely in front of the communications hub in her room. The muffled sounds coming from it sounded hectic, rushed, and occasionally, Tidus could hear explosions, mana beams going off, or yelled orders. Not exactly the thing you'd listen to willingly.  
  
Slowly, Tidus tiptoed up behind her and in one quick movement, wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss into the back of her neck. A moment later, Tidus was laying on the ground, his nose aching from the reverse head butt he'd received from the love of his life.  
  
Yuna turned and quickly knelt by his side, little sighs and chirping sounds coming from her. Her eyes were wide and a hand we over her mouth as she rushed out apology after apology.  
  
Tidus only laughed, hand over his nose. His words came out muffled and nasally. "Well, that's a lesson learned. Worried about intruders."  
  
Yuna held her head low. "Rikku showed me a few things about self- defense..."  
"Good," Tidus returned with a laugh.  
  
"Are you ok? Do you need a potion? Bandage? I'm so sorry!"  
  
He continued to laugh, but took his hand from his nose. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine." With that, he slowly made his way back to his feet and pointed to the table she had been huddled in front of when he came in. "How are things out there?"  
  
She looked to the communications hub and nodded. "We've seemed to won...but some Yevonites are still out there and the remaining forces are trying to deal with them."  
  
Tidus nodded and sat down in a short wooden chair next to the table, eyes glued to the racket-making machine. "So we've...won?"  
  
Yuna came up beside him and nodded. "Yes...I still wish all of this could have been avoided..."  
  
Tidus lowered his head a bit and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Yuna...It's something that had to be done. If not, that crazy Nyka would've taken any city he wanted and before you know it, Yevon is back in power. What you are doing is paving a road to a bright future."  
  
Yuna sighed. "I thought I was doing that with the defeat of Sin..."  
  
Tidus had to sigh as well. He too had hoped to bring everlasting peace to the land with the defeat of Sin. But apparently, human nature just won't allow peace. He sighed once more and lowered his head to the table, trying to cut out the noise of the communications hub. This was not what he wanted to come home to. He wanted to come home, wraps his arms around Yuna, and never let go. But there was a war on and Yuna had an important job to do; he didn't want to stop her from doing that job either.  
  
Yuna seemed to sense his thoughts and rested her palms on his tense shoulders, softly kneading into the muscles there. Tidus 'mmmed' at the tension's release and turned his head to kiss the top of her right hand. She smiled and leaned down, planting a kiss into his scalp.  
  
"I'm sorry that this happened, Yuna...I wish that something could've been done about it..."  
  
Yuna sighed and rested her cheek in his hair as she continued to massage his shoulders. "I know the feeling...but what else was there to do? The peace in Spira had to be protected and I acted accordingly..."  
  
Tidus laughed. "Your starting to sound like a real leader..."  
  
She winked and planted a kiss to his cheek. "You had your doubts, eh?"  
  
He stuck his tongue out and tickled at her side with a backward turned arm. At that, she yelped and attacked his sides with tickles from both hands. Straining to keep the laughter in, Tidus stood up and scooted the chair to the side, allowing him full tickling access to Yuna. She bopped him on the top of his head lightly and made her way in a mocking run to the other side of the room, his only reaction to give chase.  
  
As Tidus wrapped his arms around her shoulders after an extremely fast sprint to the other side of the room, Yuna screamed in mid-laugh, playfully hitting his shoulders in an attempt to escape. Her attempts were futile, however, for his strength outmatched her own. Grinning, he inched his face ever closer to hers, eyes shimmering with mischief. She tilted her head to try to dodge his movement, but he was too quick. Tidus now held her lower lip between his own lips.  
  
"Gosha!" he said as he began to nibble at her lower lip. She blinked, confused and amused all at once.  
  
"Some kinna comfoot mephaniphm?" she asked, giggling at her own lisped voice.  
  
He nodded and started to make a 'num num num' sound as he continued to nibble at her lower lip, head tilting slightly.  
  
Yuna laughed at his 'numming' and raised a finger to tickle at the skin under his chin. He stopped nibbling and made a mock biting motion at the finger, smile as wide as a mile. "Hey, no fair!"  
  
She winked, muttered, "Yes fair!" and latched onto his upper lip, mocking his 'numming.'  
  
In retaliation, he started a soft kneading at her sides that soon turned into a rather malicious tickling. Yuna yelped in response and wriggled her way out of his embrace, running to the door.  
  
Tidus started sprinting for the door, but stopped as he heard it open. He stood facing someone who he'd never met. A stranger with a torn sleeve, said sleeve wrapped around his head. Tidus tilted his head in puzzlement, but then reacted to the possibility of a threat by pulling a dagger from his belt and sprinting towards the new arrival.  
  
Yuna started to back herself in the corner as the stranger said, "You really should put some guards outside of the temple."  
  
"What are you doing here?!" Tidus heard Yuna yell.  
  
Just as Tidus was about to bring his dagger down on the stranger, he found himself crashing into the far wall in the hallway. He quickly got up to see that the stranger had moved in the blink of an eye to a spot next to the communications table.  
  
"F..F..Fagan?" Yuna managed.  
  
The stranger nodded. "I'm not in the best of shape, am I?"  
  
"You're...bleeding! Are you hurt?"  
  
In response, Fagan laughed. "Lady Yuna...I feel no pain now...you needn't worry. Tis a wound I won't be able to heal until I've completed my task."  
  
Tidus slowly walked forward, standing in front of Yuna, as if protecting her. "What kind of task?"  
  
Fagan nodded and sat down in the small wooden chair, legs crossing. Tidus noticed that the man's clothes were muddy and tattered, the only noticeable mark about the man being the blood slowly trickling down the side of his head. "A task I will need Lady Yuna's help with."  
  
"Why do you need her," Tidus asked, face contorting into a distrusting scowl.  
  
"I'll need her to send someone for me."  
  
"Send someone? I haven't done that for..."  
  
"Three years. Yes, I know, Lady Yuna. But you will have to do it one more time for peace to come to me...and the whole of Spira."  
  
"Who will I be sending?" Yuna asked, sidestepping Tidus and approaching Fagan. Tidus shook his head and put a hand on her stomach, holding her still.  
  
Fagan simply smiled. "Well...let's just say that you'll be finishing the job you started with the defeat of Sin."  
  
Tidus and Yuna both blinked, looking to each other curiously, before turning back to Fagan.  
  
"I knew that'd get your attention."  
  
Tidus brought a finger to his chin in thought while Yuna was already blurting out her theory. "Nyka?"  
  
Fagan nodded. "Correct."  
  
"So he's unsent..."  
  
Again, Fagan nodded. "They both are."  
  
"They?" asked Tidus.  
  
"-They-," Fagan reassured.  
  
Yuna stepped forward, placing Tidus' hand back to his side. "Who's the other one?"  
  
"That, my dear Lady, will take some time to explain, and I doubt I could explain it as well as my heavenly benefactors."  
  
Tidus leaned forward, as if trying to physically represent his piqued curiosity. "Heavenly benefactors?"  
  
Fagan laughed. "Yes."  
  
Yuna tilted her head. "You mean...Yevon?"  
  
Tidus stepped a few more feet forward. "Yevon's dead! We killed him."  
  
With a sigh, Fagan nodded. "Yes, you did, as I now know quite well. With Yu Yevon gone, there is no Sin, no Fayth, no summonings, nothing. You essentially destroyed the moral lifeblood of Spira."  
  
Tidus tried his best not to show his anger, but it wasn't helping. He teeth were grinding and his fists balled and shaking. "Bastard! Without Yevon, Spira is a much better place!"  
  
"And here is Sin, replaced with an equal, nay, greater foe: man-on-man warfare."  
  
Tidus growled. "All because of that Nyka character."  
  
Yuna narrowed her eyes, a tear escaping from one of them as she yelled, "And you, of all people, should be talking. You -followed- Nyka!"  
  
"That I did," Fagan confessed with a head held low. "And I'm here to right that wrong. I'll need your help, though. I didn't mean to offend, but you yourselves know that it was warfare that first brought about Yevon and Sin, correct? Tidus should remember quite well, for you saw what that war did to your beautiful city."  
  
"That was Sin!"  
  
"Is not war a sin all on its own? No, Tidus, it -wasn't- Sin that destroyed Zanarkand. It was war. Greedy war waged by two land hogging cities looking to take control of the other." Fagan growled and put his hands to the sides of his head. "Anyway...despite former political beliefs, Nyka must be dealt with. He ruins and takes life with a sick enjoyment." At this, both Tidus and Yuna could see a speck of a tear enter the corner of one of Fagan's eyes. "He must be stopped and you, Yuna, with my help, will stop him."  
  
"But how...do you plan to get to him?" Yuna asked.  
  
Fagan shrugged. "Last time I tried to get to him, I ended up dead..."  
  
Tidus and Yuna both shouted a "What!" at the same time. To Fagan, it was obvious they were soulmates. He remembered that he and his wife had been the same way, up until a few weeks before his death. It pained him to see them together, but that was beside the point. He'd have to put all of his emotions aside to accomplish his goals, for emotions just dragged things down.  
  
Fagan looked to Tidus and Yuna and noticed them to still be in shock. "Yes, yes, I'm dead. What's the big deal? Auron was around you for ages and you didn't mind."  
  
Tidus blinked a few times before responding. "But Auron...he...didn't just tell us right away..."  
  
Fagan nodded. "Well, I'm not here to be cryptic. The only thing I shan't reveal is something you two will have to see for yourselves. But still. That's a long ways off. I have a feeling there are more pressing matters at hand for you two at the moment. If you'd like to reach me, I'll be in the Crusader's Lodge. I take it that it's still an Inn?"  
  
Tidus and Yuna both nodded.  
  
"Good. Well, I'll leave you two to whatever you were doing. Remember, I'll be in the Crusader's Lodge."  
  
Yuna nodded and Tidus only stared forward, an eyebrow raised. Fagan stood from the chair and began walking towards the door. Before he headed out, he turned to them and said, "I know it's a lot to take in, but please don't think on it too long. I'd like to get the plans started quite soon."  
  
Tidus and Yuna both nodded in unison as Fagan closed the door behind him.  
  
--------------------  
  
Fagan sighed as he sat down on one of the beds at the back of the Crusader's Lodge. He wondered just how long it'd be before he could talk to Yuna. Garnering more concern was why he had felt so calm and spoke so business like to them. That was a thing of the past for him. He was no longer a courier for Nyka, therefore he no longer had to keep up the emotionless charade. But still, it had come to him so naturally, he just went with it. Fagan felt that it wasn't that good of a first impression to act so nonchalant about what he was saying in front of Yuna. Even his shock of seeing Tidus alive was hidden by his countenance. Then again, he hadn't shown much surprise after learning of Nyka's true identity.  
  
A uniformed man cam up beside Fagan and asked, "You ok? Looks like a nasty wound on your head there."  
  
Fagan waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. It'll heal. I'm fine."  
  
"Ok. May I get you anything?"  
  
"I've no money on my person." Fagan responded.  
  
The man laughed. "The only thing that'll cost you here is a night's stay. S'long as you're in here, you can get food. But if you wanna use a bed for more than sittin', you'll have to fork over some Gil."  
  
Fagan tilted his head slightly. "What are you serving?"  
  
"Day-old soup."  
  
"Ah. Any bread?"  
  
"Week-old loaves," the soldier said with a laugh.  
  
"I take it the Lodge's supplies are dwindling?" Fagan asked.  
  
"You could say that. But once Luca is back in our hands, we'll have fresh food. Nyka cut off our supplies. The only guy who got around it was a tapestry merchant. Can't eat those, I'm afraid..."  
  
"I would suppose not. I'll take...a slice or two of bread, please. And a cup of water, if you'd be so kind."  
  
"How about some berry juice instead? Water's a little tight right now."  
  
"The Lodge is on an island. I don't see how it's tight." Fagan said.  
  
The man nodded. "Yes, but most of our fresh water reserves traveled with the troops. Once Luca-"  
  
"Is in the Crusaders' hands, yes I know. Berry juice it is, then."  
  
"Be right back," the soldier said with a bow.  
  
The Lodge reminded Fagan of a beggar's palace more than an actual Inn, but that was mainly due to the fact that the inns in Bevelle were so pricey and didn't just offer up free food to travelers. Soon, the soldier was back with the bread and juice, and the bread was so hard, Fagan had to dip pieces of it in the berry juice to make it edible. Still, it was better than nothing. What amazed Fagan was the fact that even though he was essentially the walking dead, he still hungered for food.  
  
After finishing the bread and juice, he took the tray it had been brought to him on back to the soldier.  
  
"Good?" the soldier asked.  
  
"It satisfied my hunger, thank you."  
  
The soldier laughed. "That's about all we can do until supplies from Luca start coming back in. Never knew how much we depended on trade with Luca before that damned Nyka took over the place. Eh, it'll soon be ours, though."  
  
"And why didn't you go with the troops?" Fagan asked, not able to hold his tongue.  
  
The soldier laughed once more. "Ah, I've gotten that question quite a lot. Simply put, I don't like using Machina weapons. I'm sort of old school and it looks as if the old school is out. I didn't do well in the impromptu Al Bhed training course, so they gave me Lodge duty. I don't mind it though. I've always been quite the coward."  
  
"Then why-"  
  
"Did I join up?" the soldier finished for Fagan. "I thought I could do my part, ya know, to keep the peace in Spira. After Kilika, I knew that a major conflict was coming. I was ready to fight, even have my father's sword. But then the Al Bhed joined up and the soldiers like me still holding on to cutlery were left behind in the dust."  
  
Fagan smiled. "Every little bit counts, and I'm sure that your job is just as important as the other soldiers' job."  
  
"Thanks, but when they come back with battle wounds and all I have is a strained back from standing up behind a counter all day, let's see what everyone says then."  
  
Fagan shook his head. "It isn't the job that makes the man, it is the man that makes the job. Just do your best and you will be rewarded."  
  
"Uh huh. You some kinda preacher or philosopher, or something?"  
  
"No...not anymore." Fagan said, eyes wandering to the ground.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I was fired..."  
  
"A preacher, fired? How's that supposed to happen?"  
  
As Fagan headed for the door, he looked over his shoulder with a smile and said, "A bullet helps." He then walked out into the waning daylight, leaving the soldier to his own thoughts.  
  
--------------------  
  
The airship slowly made its descent, causing its cargo hold and passengers to shake. Seeing as the ship had been hastily set up for troop carrying purposes, its hold only had one bench, and that was occupied with a sleeping soldier who looked much cleaner than the rest of the men in the hold.  
  
Eimour and Gary were near the hold's doors, but still couldn't get away from the smell of battle. The soldiers returning to Besaid, some Crusaders, most Al Bhed, were caked with dirt and reeked of sweat. Eimour's shoulders were tired from holding Gary up so long and her legs were tired from standing. She eyed the bench but thought better of asking the sleeping man for a seat. Besides, the ship was descending, as far as she could tell, and she'd soon be on solid ground.  
  
As her observation had revealed, the ship set down with a rather hard thud; thankfully, not hard enough to send everyone to the floor. The hold's doors quickly slid open with a high-pitched gear-grinding sound and over the hold's speakers, a simple "Get out!" was shouted. Even the Al Bhed soldiers knew what this meant. A few soldiers brushed past Eimour before the command sunk in and then she trudged out into the open. Clean, ocean-scented air filled her lungs as her eyes adjusted to the dimming sunlight. Though she'd never been to Besaid before, she knew that she liked the island already.  
  
Gary, who had been asleep on her shoulders before, was now groggily mumbling something about all of the soldiers. Eimour squinted a bit and after a bit of focusing, she could see large groups of dark-blue clad troops. All were carrying the same type of rifle, and they all seemed to be talking about something. Some of the groups noticed the airship's arrival and began sprinting towards it. As the groups neared, Eimour noticed that most of them had enthusiastic looks on their faces, while the rest looked a bit more apprehensive.  
  
As Eimour continued towards the gathering of soldiers, she could faintly see the outline of a wide, one story building behind the troops. She could see various groups drilling, some just milling about, and even saw some of the officers ordering the groups around with overstressed hand and arm gestures. The large group of troops that had started running towards the airship when it landed then passed Eimour and Gary, the child's attention fully fixated on the soldiers, as if looking for someone.  
  
Gary then asked in a meek tone, "Mommy, do you think Daddy made it back here yet?"  
  
Eimour smiled, tapping her son on his knee. "I don't know, honey, but I'm sure he'll find us. All we have to do is find his house."  
  
"Maybe he'll meet us there!" the child explained happily.  
  
Eimour laughed and nodded. "Hopefully so. Now we just need to find where that exactly is..."  
  
"Just ask a soldier, Mommy!"  
  
Eimour laughed. "Alrighty, but I'll have to find one who knows the area..."  
  
"Okies!" Gary said, laying his chin atop his mother's head.  
  
Eimour and Gary found a narrow dirt path leading directly into the front of the building behind the troop, and another path splitting off and heading into a patch of jungle. At the fork of the two paths was a sign with two arrows, one pointing to the building and another pointing to the jungle. Above the first arrow were the words, "Troop Barracks/Training Facility." Above the second arrow were three words, "To Town/Docks."  
  
Eimour laughed. "Well, he said in town, so I imagine we're home free now, Gary."  
  
Gary gripped at his mother's hair and laughed. "Off we go!" he yelled and off they both went, heading into the jungle.  
  
--------------------  
  
"So he's not here?" Tidus asked.  
  
Yuna shook her head, standing in the Lodge's doorway. "The man behind the desk said that he left earlier this evening. He didn't see where he went."  
  
Tidus scratched at his chin in thought, tapping his foot. "That's not too comforting. He lied..."  
  
Yuna shook her head and tried to look as comforting as possible. "No, no, I'm sure that he's just exploring the island."  
  
Tidus raised a brow. "Right. Well, if he is, let's go look for him. I don't trust him and I'd rather know what he's doing than just sit here waiting for him to return. I swear if he's tricked us..."  
  
"Don't worry. I don't think he's the tricking type."  
  
Tidus shrugged. "Where should we look first?"  
  
Yuna hmmed. "Well, let's try to think where he'd go."  
  
"I don't know him that well," Tidus remarked rather sarcastically.  
  
Yuna gave him a swift but gently kick to the shin. "Hush, you."  
  
Tidus laughed, holding up his hands innocently. "Got any ideas?"  
  
"The most scenic areas on Besaid would be most likely where he'd go. One of them is near the Crusader's encampment. I would think he'd like to be alone."  
  
"And the best place to be alone would have to be the beach at night." Tidus said, crossing his arms with a smug grin.  
  
"Right!" Yuna said, tapping the air with a finger.  
  
"Ladies first," Tidus said with a wink.  
  
"No fair!"  
  
Tidus shrugged. "Just being...'neighborly.'"  
  
"Do I have to tickle you again?" Yuna said, a menacing grin coming to her face.  
  
"Uh...I'll take point..."  
  
"Good," she replied, grin turning into a beaming smile.  
  
Tidus rolled his eyes and took her left hand in his right. "How about we go in side by side?"  
  
"Even better," Yuna replied, leaning her head down to rest on his shoulder as they began to walk down the path leading to the beach.  
  
--------------------  
  
Fagan hadn't really expected to hear from Yuna again that same night, so time had not been a deciding factor for him. What had made him trudge all the way to the beach was the simple fact that in all his travels to Besaid, he had never been able to go to the beach. Even if Yuna had gone to the Lodge to seek him, he wouldn't have cared what consequences not being there to greet her would've brought. Before him was a clear, dark, and starry sky. A full moon highlighted it all as it peeked over the water's horizon. It was one of the most beautiful scenes he had ever bared witness to.  
  
Despite his troubled soul, Fagan felt free and very alive when gazing upon the vast, moonlit ocean. The water had no bounds, for it stretched far beyond what the eye could see, and that form of eternity excited him. Even knowing that he would not reach the free eternity that the true Farplane offered, he still yearned for it. How could he not? To be that tranquil, that relaxed, and that carefree was something amazing, and human nature yearned for the amazing. Amazing wealth, amazing companionship, amazing power. But as a soul, all one could get was amazing peace, if one was so inclined. But even as Fagan slowly let the tranquility before him calm his inner-demons, that voice of indignation at the back of his mind would not let him forget that he was to never experience eternal bliss. The "heavenly benefactors" had told him this at the start, and his need for revenge outweighed his need for eternal bliss.  
  
Fagan knew that once he had Yuna's help, his "second coming" on Spira would be short lived. It wasn't a time to be emotionless, uncaring, cryptic, and evasive. He only had a short amount of time to enjoy the pleasure of emotion, and he set his goal to milk human emotion for all it was worth. He promised that no matter how short or long the journey would be, he'd make it worth his while. Something he could remember when spending the rest of his eternal life locked away in the darkness of a Pyrefly.  
  
It was his price to pay, and he would pay it. If his sacrifice would do the world a service, than he'd do it in a heartbeat. Since he had lost his deity, Fagan had had little to no hope. But slowly, as he watched the water move along slowly, the waves' crests and troughs highlighted in the mesmerizing glow of the moonlight, he began to realize that he should do all things in Spira's good favor. Fagan, the man, should do his part to keep Spira a cohesive world. Spira itself was a beautiful creature, and it couldn't stop all of its worries on its own. So right then and there, staring at the ocean's endless horizon, Fagan decided to become a warrior for Spira. He would strike down the evil threatening Spira and help the forces looking to protect Spira.  
  
Fagan sighed deeply and closed his eyes, shaking all of the negative thoughts from his mind. He felt that his mind should be pure for his transformation into Spira's protector. Fagan's fists balled and his jaw tightened. In his head, he recited his promise to rid Spira and its peoples of the evil that was Nyka and the Yevon religion. "What is dead should stay dead," he said aloud.  
  
"Then what are you doing here?" The voice belonging to Tidus broke Fagan's concentration.  
  
In response, Fagan turned around, cleared his throat, and replied, "What is dead should stay dead, unless otherwise noted."  
  
Yuna, who Fagan now saw was holding Tidus' hand, laughed. "True."  
  
Tidus cocked a sneer. "Nice joke. Didn't know you had it in you."  
  
"Neither did I," Fagan responded. "I take it I wasn't at the Lodge."  
  
Tidus' sneer turned into a smile. "You could say that."  
  
With that said, Yuna nodded. "I've come to a decision."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'd like to help you. You've been sent back to Spira for a reason, and I'm not one to argue with Heaven-sent helpers." Yuna looked to Tidus as she said this, who promptly kissed her forehead.  
  
Fagan smiled and nodded. "I see. It's settled then."  
  
"I'll tell the Lodge to clear a bed for you while you're here." Yuna said.  
  
"Thank you," replied Fagan.  
  
"Welp, time to head back to the village. I'm hungry!" Tidus said, smirking. "Wanna join us?"  
  
With the shake of his head, Fagan pointed to the ocean. "View's real nice. Think I'll stay here for a while longer. Thank you for the offer, though."  
  
"No problem." Tidus said, and the couple turned and headed back towards the village.  
  
Fagan smiled and turned back to the ocean. He then turned his gazed upwards, staring into the stars. "Wherever you are, my love, I wish you eternal bliss."  
  
--------------------  
  
Rikku slowly exited her vehicle to the gaze of at least three Crusader officers.  
  
"Yes," she asked.  
  
"Ma'am, we've swept the entire stadium. There's no sign of them. I think it's safe to say that...they're gone," one of the officers said.  
  
"It's never safe until you've got proof!" Rikku yelled at them. "Keep looking!"  
  
They all nodded and said in unison, "Yes, ma'am!"  
  
With them gone, Rikku sighed and leaned against the side of her vehicle. When word had spread that Gatta, Weston, and most of the rest of the ocean-landing Crusaders had been wiped out in the stadium blast, the soldiers had begun to look towards Rikku as the highest person in the chain of command. By evening's arrival, she not-so-officially -was- the commanding officer. With that, she was having to give orders left and right to groups of troops arriving and leaving Luca. She hadn't liked the idea of having to take over, but yet and still, it wasn't something she could argue with. Thousands of soldiers looking to you for orders sort of humbled the fear of being in command. To Rikku, it had to be done, no matter how she felt about it.  
  
It had now been nearly seven hours since the last contact with Gatta, and, even though she was afraid of even the possibility, it looked as if Gatta had been taken out of the picture. Rikku knew that the soldiers had already moved on, but she wasn't going to give up hope. She'd never given up before. Had she given up on the pilgrimage three years before, it was no telling what would've happed in the end. With Luca out of Nyka's hands, things were going to heat up. Rikku knew that Nyka wasn't just going to go away magically and she highly doubted that a proper move against Nyka could be brought on without Gatta's help. It was he who had so hastily volunteered to draw up an attack plan. Rikku had just originally planned to enter through the south gate and keep pushing. Gatta's planning had helped solidify the victory in Luca and Rikku certainly didn't want to take credit for something Gatta had done.  
  
Now Rikku feared not only for herself and the troops, she also feared for Spira. With Gatta gone, Rikku felt powerless. She knew she could probably plan something, but not to the caliber Gatta had done so. He had a bit more experience under his belt. Gone with Gatta was the Crusaders' "Ace in the Hole," Weston. The 'super soldier' who didn't seem to fear death and really didn't mind going in first was lost if Gatta was lost. The realization that in one fell swoop, all hope for easy victory against Nyka, did nothing to reassure Rikku and she soon found herself doubting whether she could set up defenses good enough to curb a Yevonite counter-attack on Luca.  
  
Rikku sighed shakily and slowly slid down onto the ground, watching as the men on the streets finished the cleaning. "Cleaning...bodies...that used to be living, breathing people. People with spouses, children, uncles, parents, siblings...Why must war be so cruel? When will peace come? Is death all there is to war?" Rikku found herself whispering under her shaky and choke-ridden breath. Tears soon began to form at the corners of her eyes as she heard light footsteps heading in her direction. She didn't bother to look towards them, for she knew it was just another aide telling her of their inability to locate her comrades.  
  
"True, death -is- the initial result of war. Rest assured, peace and tranquility will soon follow."  
  
Rikku looked up to the person that had stopped next to her and nearly fainted.  
  
--------------------  
  
Eimour soon heard the mumbled sounds of a village in front of her. She could also see lights off in the near-distance. Her heart skipped a beat as she soon found her feet meeting hard, packed dirt. The path to the village had been loose, as if it was rather new. To the left of her was a large temple; on the right was a large blue and white striped tent. Many people were moving about, most dressed in light, airy clothes. On the other side of the path were various tents. Some were closed, the rest were open, presumably shops or eateries. But near the temple was a large, square building made of wood. Seeing this made Eimour nearly jump with realization.  
  
Gary groaned a bit and mumbled, "Are we there, Mommy?"  
  
Eimour smiled and nodded. "Yes."  
  
She then headed for the wooden building. It was taller than the tents and stuck out amidst all the island outfitting. The building was unmistakably Weston's self-built abode. The poor building stuck out just about as much as Weston himself. A smile came to Eimour's countenance as she pulled the latch on the door to the inside of Weston's house. As she entered the dwelling, however, a sense of hollowness engulfed her. According to Weston, this house had been built and lived in for nearly six months, but the inside was as barren as a desert. Besides a single-sized bed and dresser, nothing was in the main room of the house. Inside the kitchen offset was a small stove and a nearly barren cupboard.  
  
Eimour placed Gary on the bed and watched as the young child immediately fell asleep. She smiled and placed the neatly made and clean cover over him. Her smile faded, however, when she opened the top drawer of the dresser. Inside were neatly folded clothes, all gray or white, and a razor. Eimour bent down to see what was in the rest of the drawers, but the effort was wasted, for the rest of them were empty.  
  
She huffed and stood, looking about the kitchen area. No sense of shelter was actually harbored in this 'home.' Eimour shook her head and sighed.  
  
"A soldier is all he could be..." she said, walking towards one of the only two windows in the home. She tried to imagine what kind of things Weston did in his free time. If his home was without personality, what kind of life did he lead off of the battlefield?  
  
"At least he has a nice view of the ocean..." she remarked, staring at the moonlight waves. "I wonder when he'll get back..."  
  
After a few moments, Eimour's aching shoulders and legs got the best of her and she walked over to the bed. Gently, she lifted Gary up, and slid onto the small bed. She then placed Gary on top of her and slowly brushed his hair. Unconsciousness soon came to Eimour, and she began a worriless sleep.  
  
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A/N: Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, Akin to Sin. Happy birthday to you!  
  
As promised, here is Chapter 19! It's ten times what it used to be, and I'm glad I took the time to refine this chapter because, though it's short, I'm really proud of the amount of half-way decent character development! My first short chapter in a while is much better than the first few chapters (that will have to be rewritten) of this tale.  
  
Thanks a humongous bunch to Shad for putting up with me as I toiled on this chapter and the site/logos, thanks to Jave and Artemis for the ideas, hella thanks to Noelle for help with the logos. Thanks to all the new and current and past reviewers for helping me shape AtS into something I could be somewhat proud of!  
  
Keep your eyes open for a few surprises, guys and gals, because some stuff is coming ^.~  
  
Thanks again, and I'll be back with Chapter 20...one of these days ^__^ ~No One 


	20. Chapter 20: Welcome Home

Chapter 20: Welcome Home  
  
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"The future is the past returning through another gate."  
  
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Help...help me. My lips could easily mouth the words, but the voice to carry them was nowhere to be found. I knew I was breathing, albeit strained. I also knew that whatever was straining my breathing did not have a very pleasant odor. So I could feel and smell...but why couldn't I hear anything but a dull ringing? My eyelids tried to pry themselves open, but failed for some reason. A hand tried to lift to see what was causing my eye problem, but that too was hindered by something.  
  
The soldier in me wanted to get up as soon as possible and the human in me told me that I was already dead. In most situations, the soldier's opinion ruled over me, but this time, I found my mind drifting in and out in an anxious attempt at deciding what to do. I kept trying to thrash around and then stopped, my chin quivering with pent up tears staining the outer sides of my eye sockets. The skin covering my body was slowly starting to realize that I was somewhat conscious, and was sending needle-like prickling sensations to all of my limbs. I suppose it was trying to tell me to move, but my mind's state only allowed me the courage to try to shift. Even that was a struggle, and I soon found my confidence and paranoia dueling for supremacy. But even that was recognized as something else by some mediating part of my conscious brain, and in a few minutes, I knew exactly why I was being so flaky.  
  
Shell shock wasn't a proper medical term when I was in the service. It represented an outdated concept left to wither and die after World War I. Shell shock, to me at least, was not a prolonged stress disorder. To me, it was the body's reaction to something horrific, namely an "in-your-face" explosion. But I could not remember an explosion...which was yet another symptom of my version of "shell shock." The memory of whatever caused my condition would probably come flooding back to me as my brain relieved some of its tension. But that would require some sense of awareness. Without my sense of sound or sight, awareness was a lost commodity. My flaky frame of mind soon asked the inevitable "will you ever see or hear again?" paranoia- induced questions. My confidence and whatever that mediator was had no answer, so my paranoia was left to deduce on its own...something I could not afford if indeed I was still in a war zone.  
  
After letting my confidence attack the paranoia a bit more, I found that my other arm, the one I hadn't tried to move yet, could indeed move. With this newfound discovery, I raised the arm and its hand to eye level, prying open what I now could feel were very swollen eyelids. The moment my eye felt cool air, tears started to form in the corners of my eyes. And then there was the pain. It did not take me long to deduce that I had something in my eye. What it was I didn't really care, and I knew if I kept it open long enough, the tears would do their job and wash out the foreign object.  
  
Sure enough, the pain in my eye subsided, and I let my eyelid close once more, eyeball rolling around madly, as if glad to be free from its painful prison. Although devoid of any object, my eyelid still would not open on its own accord, so I felt around with my free hand for a moment. What I discovered was rather shocking.  
  
What did I feel? Concrete? No. Metal? No. What I felt was cold, sunken-in flesh. The hand jerked back and pried my eye open. On top of me lay one of the men that had been with me when clearing the stadium. Apparently, he had jumped in front of me in an effort to shield me from the blast. Why? I've no clue. He was certainly dead, at least from what my nose was telling me. Asking him would've been pointless. Instead, I arched my back and felt my knees rise up. Ah, my knees. In my moment of inner-conflict, I had forgotten to check to see if my legs were still usable. They were, and my savior's body soon rolled off my on. My strained breathing soon turned into gasps of air. Unfortunately, the gasps let in a mouthful of chalk, the remnants of the stadium's rooftop, I presumed. I choked a while, eyes tearing up and nostrils flaring. My now completely free hands searched my pockets for something to cover my mouth with. Finding nothing, I took a grip on a sleeve and ripped. I hastily wrapped the sleeve over my nose and mouth and tried to stand.  
  
Standing was more of a chore than I expected it to be. The dormant blood that had decided to pool in certain parts of my body rushed to my head all at once and I had to reach out for something blindly for balance. Of course, I couldn't find something in time and landed on top of the poor soldier that had given his life for mine. I imagined that if my hearing had been normal, I would've heard a rather nasty sound when I hit him. Good thing I still only heard the dull ringing. I decided to try standing again, slower this time. My sense of balance was off, but I managed a few steps before I realized that I wouldn't get anywhere without some sense of direction. The remedy for this? My fingers became temporary eyelids.  
  
I didn't have the mental capacity at the time to care how odd I must've looked. Walking around with your fingers holding your eyes open was probably a funny sight. Too bad Gary wasn't there to see it...or was he lucky that he couldn't see it? Anyway, with my foggy vision, I could at least make out where I was.  
  
Where was I, exactly? Some people would've called it hell. Being the objective type, I called it "a pile of rubble." Amongst the shattered stone and concrete slabs were bodies and shiny bits of metal, but recognizing anyone or anything specifically was impossible with the vision I had.  
  
I stopped for a moment and rested on a large block of the white stone that used to make up the stadium, rubbing at my eyes profusely with the knuckles of my hands. While it didn't really help the pain or swelling, it did help my vision clear a bit. I really didn't know how to fix the hearing problem, but I guess that'd come back in time...if it was coming back.  
  
Satisfied that I could somewhat identify objects now, I headed towards what I could see was an opening filled with light. I called it an opening because it was not a doorway. Whatever had caused the large hole in the solid stone wall was something I didn't want to meet, but I didn't have much of a choice. That was my only source of light, and light meant clarity, even if it also meant death. And the light did give me clarity...clarity that the battle had probably been long over with. I saw no soldiers fighting, no bodies littering the ground, no heavy machinery in the road. All I could make out were the dark patches of blood spills, billowing smoke, and destroyed buildings. The scene resembled nothing close to what the bustling city of Luca had been when I was last there. Everything seemed eerily calm, and I was reminded of all the post- apocalyptic scenes in movies. A shiver ran down my spine and I could feel my teeth chattering, even if I couldn't hear them.  
  
Walking along the bloodstained yet calm streets only heightened my sense of dread. I felt as if I was the lone survivor...the last man left in a battle to end all battles. And, despite what some movies or books tell you, being the lone survivor in a battle of courage and honor is something that's disheartening, and not at all comforting. I had cheated death so much that I was beginning to think I was cursed. Or at least that's what my paranoia was telling me to think. I believed that my confidence had left the building for the moment...but that'd be the case for anyone after seeing the tragedy that the town of Luca had become.  
  
War had left its destructive touch on Luca and I didn't believe it'd ever return to what it had been. More or less, the brown and crimson stains on the road I was walking didn't need to be washed away. Each dried patch represented a life extinguished in the fight for a cause, and no matter what side they were fighting on, they had the right to be remembered. It took the after-battle scenery to actually jar emotions. The fight itself is nothing more than push, shove, charge, retreat. No man looks to the ground when his life is on the line. But after all is said and done, when a man has to clean up the bodies of his comrades and enemies, he gets a new appreciation for his life and the courage of the men he's burying. At least, that was my idealized version of it. In truth, some men never felt remorse or reverie for their enemy. I certainly did...but I always tried my damnedest to not show it.  
  
War was conflicting to me. In the heat of battle, it was kill or be killed...but afterwards it was something along the lines of "why kill or be killed?" Peace is always the remaining shine of hope in a soldier's eyes, even as he's firing a bullet into the brain of his opponent. Or something like that...  
  
With my gloomy mood, I had not even noticed that my hearing was slowly returning to me. At least, I thought it was. I heard, faintly, the voice of someone yelling my name.  
  
"Weston!"  
  
"What?" I tried to yell, not hearing my own words that well.  
  
"Over here! It's me! I didn't know you were still-"  
  
"Huh?" I said, turning my head in every possible direction, not able to trace the source of the sound. Was I imagining it?  
  
"Over here damnit!"  
  
"Where?" I asked, still turning my head.  
  
"HERE. IN FRONT OF YOU."  
  
I blinked and stopped the erratic motions of my head. Sure enough, a few feet in front of me was Gatta, staring at me as if I had lost my marbles. Maybe I had.  
  
"Hey," I said, nodding to him.  
  
"Why do you have your fingers on your eyelids?" he asked.  
  
I returned my hands to my sides, my eyes immediately closing.  
  
"Ah," he said, nodding. At that, I heard him fiddling around with something. "This'll help."  
  
Whatever he did, it did help. A cooling sensation washed over my face and I felt the tight, puffy flesh that were my eyelids loosen. Soon, I was blinking like a madman.  
  
"All better," I heard him say.  
  
I nodded and rubbed at my eyes for a few moments. I then lifted my head and rather enjoyed seeing with a clear twenty-twenty vision.  
  
"That was my last potion. You've got a few cuts on you...we'll fix those when we get back. Just glad your alive." I was glad he wasn't taking my..."return" to the point of hugging me. That wouldn't have helped my mental state in the least.  
  
"Get back?" I asked, delirium still lingering.  
  
"Yeah," he responded. "I suppose you'd like to know what's happened."  
  
"That might just help," I replied.  
  
He cleared his throat and looked towards the ground. "Luca's now free...at a high cost. The citizens were successfully evacuated and are getting used to living on boats near the Kilika docks. Not the best place...but it works- "  
  
"How long?" I interrupted, feeling a wave of nausea passing through my stomach.  
  
"How long what?"  
  
"How long have I been..."  
  
"Missing?"  
  
"Uh...yeah..."  
  
"Two days."  
  
"Wow..."  
  
"Yeah...anyway." Gatta continued. "Someone has informed Yuna of Yevonite troop movements concentrating near the Calm Lands. Most of the soldiers stationed at Besaid have been sent to Mount Gagazet. Yuna believes that Nyka's last effort for a power bid lies in destroying the resurging Ronso and then taking the under-construction Zanarkand."  
  
"Smart plan...how many guys does he have?" I said, my mind drifting in and out of consciousness.  
  
"We don't know. I just got off the communicator with Yuna. She wants to send a few soldiers on a fact-finding expedition."  
  
"A recon mission?" I said, eyes blinking rapidly.  
  
"What...? Are you ok?"  
  
"Yeah, just...give me a moment." And with that, I plopped onto the ground and looked up at Gatta. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"A small group of Yevonites killed the crew of our last transport airship at the coast."  
  
"Not cool," I said, feeling a tick of anger begin to develop in the back of my mind.  
  
"Yeah. With the rest of the ships taking the soldiers to Mount Gagazet, we're pretty much stranded here."  
  
"We're?"  
  
"The few survivors of the missile attack lucky enough to be blasted into the water along with me. Seems someone's looking out for us."  
  
"Guess so..." I said, standing back up. "Well, I'm suffering from battle fatigue and a bit of shell shock and I want to go home. Have a gun?"  
  
"Yeah...it's a standard Al Bhed pistol, though."  
  
"Ooo, lead bullets?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Good. I want to go home, and not one Yevonite is going to stop me. Hand over the gun."  
  
"I don't know if you should be..."  
  
"Give me the damned gun!" I said, certainly harsher than meant.  
  
Gatta obliged and led me towards the south gate, where, near the coastline, there was indeed an airship landed. I patted Gatta on the shoulder and headed towards the airship.  
  
I don't really know what I planned to accomplish, but I do know one thing. My anger level was shooting through the roof by the time I found the small ship's side door. On the smaller ships, there was only one level with two areas: cockpit and cargo hold. The side door, apparently, opened to the cargo hold. When I did get the door open, it opened to the cargo hold...and two Yevonites. Of course, with my mental facilities limited, I just went with the reflex of pointing and shooting. I hit my mark, not caring that I hadn't bothered to actually look at the new weapon and figure out how it worked. But, I was glad it did work when I needed it. With those two out of the way, I turned my attention to the cockpit. Inside were three Yevon soldiers. I offed the first two easily, not even giving them the chance to raise their weapons. The third, I shot in the kneecaps. Why? He was needed to fly the ship...at least I thought so.  
  
I yelled as loud as I could, "Hey, Gatta!"  
  
I heard his faint reply, "Yeah?"  
  
"Do we need a pilot, or is there one among the men?"  
  
"We've got a guy that can fly it."  
  
"Alright."  
  
I won't refer to myself as a hero, ever. A hero doesn't let his anger or vengeance get the best of him. I did, and in doing so, snuffed out the remaining life on board the formally hijacked airship.  
  
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"Did you see that woman walking into Weston's house the other night?"  
  
"I couldn't see much from my position, ya?" Wakka said, winking.  
  
Lulu frowned and batted him on the top of his head. "Honestly, Wakka. Try to control yourself."  
  
Wakka stuck out his tongue. "Yeah, yeah. Ya know you like it."  
  
To this, Lulu grinned and then nodded towards the front flap of the hut. "I wonder what she's doing there."  
  
Wakka shrugged, "Suppose I should find out."  
  
Lulu tilted her head. "Well, I'm sure she has a good reason for being there..."  
  
With a grunt, Wakka shook his head. "Gone soft on me, Lu? I'll go over there and find out what's going on, ya? Find out who she is and what she's doin' there. Better safe than sorry."  
  
Lulu rolled her eyes but couldn't help but admit she didn't mind Wakka being so cautious. She still didn't realize why she wasn't that worried about the woman. Something within her told her that the woman had a perfectly good reason for being in Weston's cabin. Lulu's instincts told her that this woman belonged in some odd way, much like Weston had belonged nearly a year before, when she witnessed his fall from the sky. Things fall into place for many reasons, and Lulu wasn't one to question those reasons.  
  
Wakka got up from the table the two were sitting at and leaned over it, kissing Lulu on the forehead. He slipped on a thin, white button down shirt, the only semi-formal piece of clothing the former Blitzer owned. Wakka then walked over to the front of the hut, brushed some locks from his eyes and headed across the main path to Weston's cabin.  
  
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Eimour sighed as she looked out of cabin's western window, which offered a nice view of the ocean. In her right hand were the crumpled remains of a thin, black shirt. She had picked it out of Weston's pocket after taking him to her apartment. The shirt itself really had no significance, and Weston had never offered an explanation for the shirt in the days he spent with her, but Eimour could not find herself to leave it anywhere but on her person.  
  
She didn't honestly expect to see Weston again. And she didn't know why she felt that way either. Instinct? Possibly. It was more her dominant pessimism. In front of Gary, she was always positive and strong. But inside, only the opposite was true, and it hurt Eimour that she could be so negative without even trying. Admittedly, her confidence was never great, and it took a major dent after Gary was conceived.  
  
Eimour opened her eyes and found her nose buried in Weston's shirt. Quickly, she placed the tattered piece of clothing back into her pocket and sighed, shaking her head. In all honesty, she had felt a form of comfort from the garment. Comfort that had always emanated from Weston...a comfort that came in the man's resolve and confident aura. She knew that admitting anything would result in broken barriers, so she closed her eyes once more and emptied her thoughts. Before calmer thoughts could enter, though, a knock came to the door, and Eimour rushed to open it, her heart beating a mile a minute.  
  
"Westo-" she started, but stopped herself when her eyes came upon a tall, broad-chested and redheaded man. Eimour cleared her throat and tried to hold back her disappointment. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Ya, you can. I'm Wakka, you may recognize me as one of Lady Yuna's guardians."  
  
"No, I'm sorry, I don't."  
  
"Oh...well...you've seen me leading the Aurochs then?"  
  
"I've...never seen you before...can I help you with something?"  
  
Wakka gritted his teeth a bit, but then calmed down. "Well, I'm both of those...so I have a bit of say so 'round here."  
  
"Ok...I get the point that you're somewhat important, well as far as your claims go...but do you have a name, sir?"  
  
"Oh...yeah, it's Wakka."  
  
"Wakka...ok, Wakka, can I help you with something?"  
  
"I was kinda wonderin' what you were doing in this cabin here."  
  
"Have I done something wrong?"  
  
"Not...that..." Wakka growled under his breath and balled his hands into fists. "What I wanna know is what you're doin here."  
  
"Oh, why didn't you just ask?" Eimour said with a hidden grin.  
  
"Why don't you just answer, ya?"  
  
"Weston told me to come here. I take it you've heard of Weston...right?"  
  
"Heard of him? Lady, I'm the one who found him."  
  
"Is that so," Eimour said with a soft giggle.  
  
"Yeah, it is. That doesn't mean much, though. Words only go so far, ya? I'll need a bit of proof."  
  
"Proof," Eimour asked brazenly. "What type of proof? All I have is my word and..."  
  
"And what?"  
  
"Just my word. Take it or leave it."  
  
At that, Wakka gave her a sideways glance, crossing his arms as his lips pursed in thought. "I'mma have to leave that and ask for more proof. Maybe like, I dunno, why Weston would tell some strange woman to live in his cabin."  
  
"Well, if I answer, it'll still be my word, so leaving my word behind leaves you with...hearsay, is it?"  
  
Wakka rolled his eyes and scratched at the back of his head angrily. "Just tell me, ya?!"  
  
Eimour smiled. "Ask politely and I'll think about it."  
  
Eyes closing in fury, Wakka growled so deep, Eimour thought she could feel the reverberations in the wooden floorboards beneath her feet. Startled, if not frightened, she put away her playful attitude for a moment and responded, rather curtly, "He saved my young son, and got hurt in the process, so I took him in, cared for him, and then, after Luca turned into a war zone, told me to come here and wait for him. Satisfied?"  
  
Wakka blinked. "So you took care of him, eh? That means you came into contact with him...I'm sure you've got proof, lady."  
  
Eimour sighed and closed her eyes, stepping out of the cabin and closing the door behind her. She hesitantly pulled the tattered black shirt from her pocket it and held it in front of Wakka's face. It took only a moment for him to snatch it from her hands.  
  
"Hey!" she yelled a bit louder than intended.  
  
"Is he okay?!" Wakka asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "Where did you get this?"  
  
Eimour growled and reached for the shirt. Wakka reacted by lifting the shirt out of her reach. He asked again, "Where did you get this?"  
  
"I told you, I got it from Weston! Now return it to me!"  
  
"Why? My wife made this for him."  
  
"What, like you can use it?"  
  
Wakka shrugged. "May need to patch a sweater or something."  
  
Eimour shouted, "So do you believe me or not?"  
  
With a grin, Wakka shrugged. "Dunno what to believe. Now I have one more question for you."  
  
"What?!" Eimour asked breathlessly, eyes narrowing and face slowly crumpling in anger.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Eimour. Why?"  
  
"Thanks. Here." He extended his hand and Eimour immediately snatched the garment from the man's large hand. Wakka grinned. "I'll be sure to check with Weston when he gets back. Can't be too safe, with this war going on, ya?"  
  
"'Ya,'" Eimour mimicked with a growling rasp. She turned on her heel and stormed back into the cabin. Wakka shrugged and headed back to his hut.  
  
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The water rushed past the windows at an alarming speed. Whoever Gatta had gotten to pilot the airship wasn't reserved at all. This speed demon's airborne antics were not helping my condition any. My stomach was churning and my head aching along with the fatigue and the still open and stinging wounds covering my body.  
  
I looked inside the hull of the rather small transport airship at the last soldiers to leave Luca. Why no soldiers were left in the now abandoned city was beyond me at the moment, but some connection in my brain formed a hypothesis that Yuna and Gatta felt defending Mount Gagazet was more important than keeping Luca in their hands. Or what was left of it.  
  
Yeah, so back to the soldiers...most of them looked fresh, meaning that they were either men who hadn't seen much combat, or they were lucky enough to have showers. I'm pretty sure it was the latter, mainly because most of the men had distant gazes, which was a soldierly trait if there ever was one. I, too, probably had that problem. That, and they didn't smell that bad. But I could smell myself...and it wasn't a pleasant aroma. If I could smell my own body odor, I'm sure the men weren't pleased to have me in such close quarters with them. As a matter of fact, I could sense a growing collective idea of throwing me out of the ship and into the rushing ocean under it. A good salt-water swim would probably cure my smelly condition...of course, it'd sting the hell out of my wounds...but what do they care about that?  
  
I turned my gaze to the window and out onto the horizon. The sun was high in the sky, marking the time to be about twelve or one o'clock. Either way, I'd make it back to Besaid just in time for a nice lunchtime nap. I saw Gatta out of the corner of my eye. He was looking a bit angry and when he passed me, I asked him, without turning my gaze to him, "What's wrong?"  
  
"We'll have to make a rough landing. Landing gear isn't responding. One of your bullets hit the main console and damaged the system."  
  
"Oopsie," I said.  
  
He grunted. "Oopsie indeed. Ok, guys. Make sure you hold on to something tight when I say so. It's going to be a bumpy landing and I don't want any of you hurt. You've been through enough already."  
  
I heard a few hummed affirmations and Gatta turned back to face me. "You, too."  
  
"I can handle it. I've been in many turbulent aircraft."  
  
"Suit yourself," responded Gatta, and with that, he headed back to the cockpit.  
  
I mumbled something that even I couldn't understand and continued to watch the sun.  
  
After what felt like only an instant, Gatta yelled out to us to get down. I didn't bother. I wish I had though...because when the airship hit the ground, I was thrown to the ceiling and after I landed rather roughly, I felt warm and sticky liquid flowing down the left side of my face. Yeah, it was blood. Go figure. Gatta didn't seem to mind it as he checked on the men in the back and then forced them out of the door. After they had left, Gatta helped me up and shoved me out of the door.  
  
"Thanks," I mumbled.  
  
"That's what you get for not following my instructions. I hope it feels good. I'll let you keep that head wound."  
  
"Not even one potion?"  
  
"Deal with it, Weston."  
  
"Ouch."  
  
He grunted and jogged off in the direction of the barracks. Apparently, the pilot was fast, but good. He had landed the ship right in the middle of the Crusaders' compound. The place was kinda deserted. Ok, no kinda to it. Guess most of the soldiers were already at Gagazet, and if I had an ounce of energy left in me, I would've left straight for it. But, I just wanted a damn nap, and it had already taken too damn long to get to Besaid...now I just needed to get to my damn house, which wasn't too damn far away. More than likely, though, it'd take me entirely too damn long to get there. And sure enough, it did take too damn long...  
  
--------------------  
  
Eimour sighed and stood, idly pacing about the small cabin room, watching herself in the small mirror on the equally small dresser near the front door. She found her eyes darting from her own reflected image to the front door, not really questioning why. Eimour knew why. Wakka had said something about when Weston returned. But it'd already been two days and she had gathered an idea that the longer he was away, the more chance of him being...  
  
Eimour's thoughts were interrupted by the front door bursting open, its knob hitting the wooden wall next to it. Before her stood the man that had just previously been on her mind. An acrid odor filled her nose, and she knew where it was coming from...but couldn't find the energy to care. She started towards him, arms outstretched, but then stopped, not sure of how he'd react to her throwing herself at him. Still, she wanted to make some contact with him and instead, walked forward and grabbed his hand. Leading Weston inside, she tried to keep the smile on her face from becoming too garish.  
  
"What are..." he started.  
  
"You made it back, just like you said."  
  
"Huh?" he asked drowsily.  
  
His words didn't really connect with her for she started to look him over, smile going to a frown as she found scratch after scratch, bruise after bruise, and finally, his gaping head wound. The excitement faded, and she pointed to the small bed in the corner of the room.  
  
"Lay down," she said a bit too sternly.  
  
"Gladly," he retorted, with a half-hearted smile. Weston walked towards the bed and upon reaching it, flopped down with an audible "oof."  
  
Eimour growled. "On your back."  
  
Weston grumbled and turned over, looking up at her questioningly. "Just let me sleep, damnit..."  
  
"You're wounded! No complaining. Now hold on a minute. I'll get something to clean that wound."  
  
With a few mumbled words of displeasure, Weston rolled his eyes and turned on his side, quickly falling asleep. Eimour found him like this a few moments later, sighing at the sight. She crumpled the cloth in her hand, the moisture trapped in it flowing over her knuckles.  
  
"Weston!"  
  
"Huh...wha?" he mumbled.  
  
"Turn over!"  
  
"Maybe later..."  
  
At that, Eimour grabbed his shoulders and physically rolled him onto his back, one arm holding him in place as she used the other to clean his wound. Weston's eyes fluttered a bit and disapproving grunts and groans escaped him, his actions reminding Eimour of an overgrown toddler more than a hardened soldier.  
  
After she had the wound clean, Eimour reached into her pocket and brought out the black shirt and a dry cloth. She pressed the cloth to the wound and wrapped the shirt around his head, holding the cloth in place. Weston growled and turned over on his side again, grumbling for just a moment before the rhythm of sleep caught him once more. Another sigh escaped Eimour's chest and she shook her head, not sure why Weston was so stubborn about someone tending to his wounds. He'd been the same way when she took him in after the pub incident.  
  
Eimour's thoughts circled back to those few days before Luca turned into a hostile battlefield. All in all, they had been fun days, chatting with Weston and watching her son annoy the hell out of the wounded soldier. But, Weston never minded Gary's attention, at least outwardly, and always made time for whatever her young son wanted with him. She found it hard to believe such a man as Weston, a trained life-taker, to be so warming to a young child, but she couldn't dismiss it as an act on his part. Weston, from what she had seen, genuinely enjoyed Gary's company, and to some extent, even her own. However, she felt that she'd been a little too harsh on him after the fact, and in a sense, regretted being so cold. Her harshness may have been unprovoked, but it didn't seen to faze Weston in the least.  
  
Weston rolled over in his sleep, his motion jarring Eimour from her thoughts. She looked upon the face of the sleeping soldier and smiled. She prayed that he'd never have to leave that peaceful bed for she felt that Weston had had enough trials in his life to last a million lifetimes. She also prayed that he'd never have to kill another soul again. There was a warm, kind, and gentle man inside of him waiting to burst out. Eimour just wondered when and exactly how that'd actually occur.  
  
--------------------  
  
Tidus growled, his legs and hips aching beyond tolerance. On his back was a young boy who was about as fussy as he was hyperactive.  
  
"Gary, are we done playing Chocobo yet?"  
  
"Not yet, Mr. Birdie! Keep hoppin'!"  
  
And Tidus followed the young boy's order. Yuna stood off to the side, half listening to what Gatta was telling her while giggling at her beau's ordeal with Eimour's child. While she knew that whatever Gatta was saying, it had to be important, but seeing how Tidus reacted to small children was much more important than war matters to her. Yuna knew that her priorities were selfishly aligned, but it didn't matter to her. The war was distant in her eyes, even if she was somewhat in charge of it. Ruling over an army just wasn't in her blood; hence why she left military strategy up to those that knew it well, Gatta and his Crusaders especially.  
  
When Eimour had come to Yuna the day before, asking if there was anything she could do to help matters around the island, Yuna just shrugged and asked the young woman about the shy child hanging onto her leg. After the introductions were over, Gary had instantly attached himself to Tidus, who he saw as a Chocobo with his blonde hair and predominately yellow leisure clothing. To Yuna, the boy was a perfect opportunity to "preview" how the man she loved would handle a child. Remarkably, Tidus took up with the boy, despite the fact that Gary could be a bit annoying at times. Still, they both needed Gary with them at the temple, if just for distraction.  
  
The news out of the communications hub was not good, and Rikku had yet to report in. Both Rikku and Weston had not made it out of Luca in the initial twelve hours after Luca gained its freedom once again, and it had everyone in Yuna's camp very worried. Weston was one of the pivotal men involved in the success of Rikku's impromptu operation, and without him, Gatta and his Crusaders would've still been pinned down. With Weston's reappearance earlier in the day, hope for Rikku's emergence had grown, but then quickly died after Cid called in to report that her vehicle had been found abandoned on the Highroad.  
  
Yuna didn't hear Gatta call her name the first three times, but on the louder fourth, she snapped out of her thoughts and responded, "Sorry. Is that all?"  
  
"Pretty much. Weston's back at his cabin and he needs to stay there. Major battle fatigue. See that he's taken care of and gets plenty of rest. Don't let him come to Gagazet, ok?"  
  
"Ok," Yuna said. "Rest and no Gagazet."  
  
Gatta nodded. "I'm heading out on the last airship. I'll call on communicator when I've established a hub. I don't know if we can get the Ronso to help or not."  
  
"I'm sure they'll help us, in some form."  
  
"We'll see. Well, I'm off. Give my regards to Weston. Remember, don't let him do anything stressful."  
  
Yuna laughed. "I'll try."  
  
Gatta grinned and ducked out of the room.  
  
Yuna then turned her attention to the mass of wires and boxes sitting in the middle of the small room. Intermittent crackling noises could be heard from the mound of electronics, coupled with the occasionally chatter between Al Bhed or Crusader soldiers. She kept hoping she'd hear word from her cousin, but after two days, that was looking to be a slim possibility.  
  
Ashamed of her negative thoughts, she turned her gaze to where Tidus and Gary had been. Standing in their place was the pale form of Fagan. His arms were crossed and his face was crumpled into a displeasing frown, which was no big surprise. After the initial shock of Fagan's arrival left Yuna, she had set up a room for him in the temple not too far from her own, and that's where he had stayed the majority of the past two days. She'd see him walking out around the temple or in the small village, but other than that, the man kept to himself. In a way, Yuna was glad that he was so reclusive, mainly because she couldn't admit to having much trust to give him. Fagan's almost magical appearance didn't sit too well with Tidus, and if Tidus didn't trust him, Yuna felt she couldn't trust Fagan any more than Tidus could. Then again, something in her heart, her instincts if you will, told her that Fagan was not a threat. Of course, that was yet to be seen.  
  
Fagan closed the distance between them with a few steps, and nodded towards the communications hub.  
  
"Any word from the straggling Al Bhed?"  
  
Yuna shook her head with a sincere frown. "None yet."  
  
"I figured. Any idea what might've happened? Are we ready to proclaim her gone?"  
  
"She's not gone," Yuna said, frown turning in a look of honest determination. "She'll contact us, and soon."  
  
The irony of what happened next would wipe the tired and angry look right off of Fagan's face. The random crackles on the communication hub started to turn into a very garbled but easily recognizable voice.  
  
"Th-------ku----Permiss------and?------Anyone---ello?--ver."  
  
Yuna jumped to the microphone amongst the heap of equipment and yelled into it. "Rikku? Is that you? Rikku? Come in!"  
  
"I'm----ying----ome in!----forget it.---anding in field-----ext---to------ ader's barracks."  
  
"Ok, Rikku? Rikku?! I can't understand you. Repeat, please!"  
  
From behind her, Yuna heard Fagan sigh. "Yuna," he said sternly.  
  
"Yes?" she replied, turning to face him.  
  
"If you couldn't hear that..." he began, shaking his head. "She's landing in the field next to the Crusader Barracks."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Most definitely," he said, nodding.  
  
"Well, let's go!"  
  
Fagan nodded and the two quickly left the Temple. On their way towards the path leading to the barracks, they saw Tidus and Gary stepping out of the Crusader's Lodge. Tidus waved and Yuna yelled for him to follow. Tidus picked up Gary and fell in step behind them.  
  
In no time, they made it to the field, all but Fagan bending over to catch their breath. He remarked dryly, "She's not here yet."  
  
"Nice observation," Tidus cracked.  
  
Yuna replied to the crack with a shushing noise. "Maybe you were mistaken," she offered afterwards.  
  
"I know what I heard," Fagan retorted sharply.  
  
"Then you might had heard wrong," added Tidus.  
  
"Wait...I see a ship." Yuna cried, finger pointing towards the western sky.  
  
Indeed, there was a ship in the sky, and it was heading towards the field at a not-so-safe speed.  
  
"Maybe we should...move outta the way..." Tidus offered.  
  
Both Fagan and Yuna seemed to agree and the trio fled into the nearby forest. A few moments later, the ship made a rough landing only a few feet from where the three had ran to. The side hatch on the airship popped open and out plopped a moderately grimy Rikku. The entire front side of her coveralls was caked in mud and dust. Even her face had a bit of mud on it.  
  
Yuna was the first to come out from under the safety of the forest. "Rikku!" And with that, she ran up and wrapped her arms snugly around the young Al Bhed, not minding the smell or feel of the dried mud. Rikku was only happy to oblige with an even tighter embrace.  
  
"I'm so glad to see you, Yunie! Haven't missed me too much, have you?"  
  
"Like I could miss you too much!" Yuna replied, letting go of her cousin.  
  
Tidus was next, all smiles, Gary atop his shoulders. "Hey there, Rikku. You look..."  
  
Rikku nodded, eyes narrowed. "I know. Boy, have I got a story to tell you guys."  
  
Before she could begin, Fagan stepped forward. Rikku blinked at him a few times, trying to recognize him, until finally it clicked.  
  
"You're one of Nyka's men!"  
  
Fagan huffed and said, voice raspy and thick with pending anger, "Used to be. I'll kill that bastard if it's the last thing I do."  
  
Rikku looked towards Yuna and Tidus for an explanation, not even noticing the other stranger sitting atop Tidus' shoulders.  
  
And Yuna told Rikku the very short version of Fagan's story. Rikku seemed to understand it, but Yuna noticed that her cousin wasn't going to readily accept that a former Yevonite had sincerely switched sides.  
  
Rikku then began her tale. In a nutshell, she had met two men that just insisted that she follow the remaining Yevonites. When she did, she found that they had an airship and were planning to strike Besaid Island with its missiles. A day or so long standoff occurred, but with the two men by her side, Rikku was able to defeat the Yevonites and come back in the airship to Besaid.  
  
After she had finished, Tidus asked, "Who are the two men that helped you? Crusaders?"  
  
"Not exactly," Rikku answered, just noticing the young boy plopped on Tidus' shoulders. "And who's that?"  
  
Tidus laughed. "This is Gary, he's a quiet kid around strangers, but once he gets to know you, look out. He's clingy."  
  
Gary laughed at the clingy remark and bopped Tidus on top of his head. He then muttered a "Hello."  
  
Rikku smiled. "Hi there. Nice to meet ya!"  
  
"On to who those two men are." Fagan interjected.  
  
"Oh, yes. Who might they be?" Yuna asked, leaning forward curiously.  
  
Rikku bit at her bottom lip and then leaned into the airship. "Ok guys, come on out."  
  
Two men, one relatively old, the other about Tidus' age, walked out of the hatch. Yuna and Tidus both nearly fainted at the sight of their former guide, Auron, standing there in the flesh, donning his usual red and black outfit. Yuna also recognized the other man, but didn't want to believe what she saw. He was tall, had very short red hair, was built much like Wakka was, and kept a sly grin on his face. Yuna's memory matched those features to a person she thought was long gone. She still couldn't believe it, and only stood in unadulterated awe.  
  
Rikku grinned weakly and nodded towards Auron. "This is Auron, for those that didn't know."  
  
Auron's gruff voice filled the air. "Hi there."  
  
Rikku then nodded towards the other man. "And this is...this is..."  
  
Yuna finished Rikku's sentence for her. "Chappu..."  
  
The red-haired young man smiled and gave a thumbs-up. "Got that right, Yuna. Chappu's back and ready to rumble."  
  
-----------------  
  
A/N: Yeah, so finally, it's here. A 7000 diddy that took way too long to get here. Oh well, I never set a date for it anyway. Besides, I started college, had to take care of a very injured uncle (he was in a bad wreck) and I've been so uninspired...that's about to change though. This chapter reveals some major stuffs, as you now know, and the next Chapter will reveal absolutely nothing. It's just going to be one sweet, heartfelt chapter that'll only progress character relationships/interactions. Some for the negative, some for the positive.  
  
Also missing from this chapter is a "log/diary/journal" entry thing. I decided that this chapter didn't need one, even though I was originally going to have one every five chapters. I'm going to combine the other entries into their respective chapters so that the chapter count on FF.net will actually match the actual number of chapters in the fic. I'll do that later though. I'm really inspired with Chapter 21 and I'm starting on that ASAP.  
  
And, now, the thank yous.  
  
Shad: Thanks for betaing, helping me with Chappu characterization issues, and for just being absolutely wonderful in every way ^__^  
  
Artemis: Without you, there would be no Eimour. Thanks again for all of your help with this chappy and the fic in general. You've truly helped me shape the last few chapters into decent tries at fic writing ^^  
  
Readers: Thanks for sticking with this for this long. It was rough in the beginning, I know, but I honestly think it's blossomed into something much more than just a small experiment. Not much longer to go, actually, so don't hesitate to stick it out for the end of this epic ficcy.  
  
~No 0ne 


	21. Chapter 21: A Bitter Return

Chapter 21: "A Bitter Return"  
  
-----------------  
  
"The heart knoweth his own bitterness; and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy." - Proverbs 14:10  
  
-----------------  
  
--*It's cold. Always cold. Always rainy. But in the jungle, it was never cold. In the dream, though, it's cold. Very cold. So cold, in fact, that I can't drop my M4 rifle. So cold that the steel of my weapon's grip is frozen to my hand. That's how cold it is.  
  
My ears can pick out the muffled sounds of explosions. My nose can smell spent gunpowder and burning foliage. The whole squad is ducked behind a large dirt mound on the south side of the proposed target, a large, whitewashed building outside of a dirt poor village. I peek over my shoulder occasionally to try to look into the dirty windows.  
  
Meanwhile our leader, a newly appointed Captain, tries to hail Command on a question the entire squad's raised. That question? "Why are there men in Doctor's coats running in and out of our target?"  
  
We've been scoping the place out for about three hours. No sign of any illicit activity, of course, but when one of the men took a pee break, he was shot and the shots seemed to have come from the direction of our target. Now, we're just convinced it's a drug haven. A cleverly disguised drug haven at that. Or is it? I'm definitely not sure at this point.  
  
The "captain" slams the radio down into the dirt in disgust and one of his officers makes a crack. That officer is then hit in the face. Angry, the captain gives the go-ahead for us to move. We move.  
  
It only takes me a second or two to realize what we're assaulting. It now appears to be an orphanage. It only -appears- to be one, though, and we aren't sure. So we kick in the door. The hinges creak and the doorjamb on the left of the door shatters into splinters. A hundred or so startled cries fill the air. The soldier to the left of me sweeps forward while I take his left flank. And I then realize that what we're doing is a terrible mistake. I try to tap the forward soldier's shoulder, but our captain barks from behind us.  
  
"Open fire, men. Kill them all!"  
  
My weapon stays on safety while a deafening roar fills the room and then echoes off of the concrete walls. I suddenly think I'm blind, but when I relax my face, my eyes open onto a scene of ghastly carnage.  
  
Most of the children lay injured and weeping or screaming. Their caretakers, mostly nuns and doctors, faired slightly better. They died sheltering a few children from the gunfire. Those children were crying loudly. I heard the captain say something that immediately snapped me out of my shocked daze.  
  
While the men took out their phosphorous grenades, I unsheathed my M9 and calmly walked over to where the captain was standing. There he stood, smoking a cigar and staring me in the face.  
  
My pistol raises to his forehead, the hammer clicks back as my thumb works it. The captain blinks only once before I pull the trigger. The nine- millimeter bullet enters his skull and I feel no remorse whatsoever.  
  
I walk over and lean against a thick tree, closing my eyes as I try to get over a rising nausea. The nausea keeps coming, however, and I drop my head as my ears fill with the now burning children's screams. I know then that their cries and the imagined scene of their scorching bodies will never leave me.  
  
Five hours later, EVAC arrives. Mission is designated as successful. A colonel walks out of the helicopter and my squad doesn't even bother lining up. This infuriates the colonel and he demands that we line up. We eventually do, and he notices the dead captain, which infuriates him even more. He demands to know how the captain was killed. No one offers an explanation, so he says the entire squad is being shipped back and demoted to the lowest rank possible. I open my eyes and mouth in a shocked expression; shocked at the fact this asshole thinks he has some Godly reign over an entire squad of men not directly under his command. One of his lackeys, an Army photographer, snaps a shot in my direction. Later on, when I get back to base, that photo is in every newspaper on the planet.  
  
After the photo is snapped, I turn my attention back to the burning orphanage. This would certainly be an image I would never forget.*--  
  
Something shook me and the image of the burning orphanage faded from my vision, only to be filled with the concerned countenance of Eimour. I tried to sit up, but she held me down. I thought I heard her whisper "Stay down," but I couldn't quite make it out. My eyes darted from her lips to her eyes and back, trying to find her emotions and her voice at the same time. Her gaze was certainly trying to lock to mine, yet I couldn't keep mine fixated on hers.  
  
My heart was pounding, sweat was beading at my hairline, and I could feel my hands clenching at the bed sheets. A panic attack was the last thing she was probably expecting, and needless to say, she grew even more worried. I tried to calm my convulsions, but the images of burning children and the sound of their tortured screams kept phasing in and out of my consciousness.  
  
Between the images trying to burn themselves into my eyes, I could see Eimour's hands clutching a wet cloth, the cloth sliding all along my chest and stomach and neck and head. When my thoughts were clear, I tried to command my mouth to open, my diaphragm to contract, and my vocal chords to help form words. Yet they all refused my request, and I was left staring as she frantically searched for some cure-all spot to soak down on my naked torso.  
  
Apparently, she wasn't enjoying my fit either. I could intermittently see tears running down her cheeks. I tried to reason with my numb arms, tried to get them to wrap around her, to comfort her and tell her that I was going to be ok...but to no avail. With no end to the attack in sight, I simply numbed my head and closed my eyes. I didn't want to see her crying. In all truth, I'd rather endure my past mistakes than see her cry. I didn't really know why, then, either. It was just...a fact.  
  
As more and more images were pulled from my subconscious, my shaking grew worse. Funny how I could feel the shaking yet couldn't command my body to move in any orderly fashion. I decided to open my eyes once more, hoping Eimour wasn't there anymore. Hoping that she had given up and accepted my fate, whatever she thought that to be. I was hoping, in infinite honesty, that she'd walk out, leave me be, let me rot...she didn't need someone like me in her life. She had enough trouble raising Gary by herself. Why should I be there to burden her?  
  
Yet, she was there, leaning directly over me. So close, in fact, that I could smell her soft berry-like scent. And surprisingly, I could smell it. Even stranger, the smell calmed me. Oddly enough, the shaking slowed. Her tear-covered face moved even closer to my own, close enough now that I could feel her breath bringing back some moisture to my dry eyes. The screams and images then began to slowly fade. By the time her chin was directly in my line of sight, my shaking had stopped. When her shaking, moist lips planted a gentle kiss to my forehead, everything...the voices, the images, the numbness...was gone. I wrapped my arms around her and sat up, pulling her into a tight embrace. Her heartbeat was as quick as mine.  
  
She was very much alive. And I was alive. And it was then that I knew she had just saved my life. Eimour had saved me.  
  
I opened my mouth and whispered softly, "Thank you."  
  
-----------------  
  
"Why are you here," Lulu asked, one hand on her hip, the other balled into a fist and resting against her stomach.  
  
Chappu blinked at the question at first and, uncharacteristically, stuttered out, "I...uh...well, you see...I..."  
  
Then, Chappu straightened and let an emotionless look wash over his face. Within one long grunt, he belted out, "To help in Yuna and the Crusaders in any way possible, even if it means going into battle."  
  
Lulu cocked a grin and shook her head. "You always were a horrible liar."  
  
"It's the truth," said Chappu, nodding assertively.  
  
"That's utter crap and you know it. You came here for me, didn't you?"  
  
Chappu immediately turned around, trying to hide the angry blush on his cheeks. His hands balled into fists and his shoulders flexed madly. Lulu's ability to read him like a book always left Chappu embarrassed and angry.  
  
"It's a little too late for that..." he managed through clenched teeth.  
  
Lulu nodded and then spoke, voice as cold as Mount Gagazet's peak. "Just about seven years too late, Chappu. I had to get over your death. I had to move on. You were dead. I had to keep living. That was certainly no easy task with the love of my life lying dead on some damned battlefield. What else was I supposed to do? Wait to see if you came back the rest of my life? That doesn't sound very fair, especially seeing as I had not a clue that you'd be back in seven years. Wakka and I...we...it just happened.  
  
"And I would've hoped you'd be happy for me for continuing on with my life. Happy that I found something...someone I could be with."  
  
With a grunt, Chappu turned around on his heel, face as red as fire. "I am very glad you found someone...but...I never expected it to be my own brudda! Damn it, Lu, this wasn't what I wanted to happen."  
  
"What was -supposed- to happen, Chappu? Was I -supposed- to find a guy and then you'd come back, swashbuckling your way into my life again? What if I had had children? What then? 'Oh, mommy's sorry, but she's going to have to get rid of Daddy so mommy's teenage lover can step in.' Is -that- what was 'supposed' to have happened?"  
  
A snarl graced Chappu's lips as his face inched closer to Lulu's, his fists digging deep into his own sides. "No! That's...two timing, Lu. Going for my brudda like that!"  
  
Lulu laughed dryly, tilting her head. "You know what's 'two-timing,' Chappu? Leaving your fiancé so you can go fight some mythical creature far, far away from all those you hold dear. What's two timing is leaving your brother and me behind so we can worry day to day about how you're doing.  
  
"You abandoned us, you abandoned your prayers, and you even turned your back on your brother's parting gift. Wakka was willing to accept the fact that the brother he had raised like a son was going off to war and even had an extremely nice sword made just for you...and you turned him down. You picked up a gun instead. How do you think that made your brother feel? Hmm? Can you answer me that?"  
  
Meekly, Chappu responded, "It...seemed like the best way to kill Sin, ya..."  
  
"Try and tell -him- that. And what of me? I was ready and willing to marry you the day you asked me...yet you decide to put yourself in danger only weeks before our wedding? What made you so damned sure of yourself that you would think you would come back without a scratch, let alone come back at all? Where were your priorities -that- day?"  
  
"They were right here!" he exclaimed, pointing at the left side of his chest. "I wanted to protect you and Wakka and the rest of the world so that couples like us wouldn't have to worry about Sin no more. I wanted to keep Sin as far away from Besaid as possible. I wanted to come home a hero and all that, ya? I wanted you to be proud of me."  
  
"Chappu..."  
  
With a grunt, he continued. "In the long run, I'm happy for you. Can't believe it's Wakka, but I know you're in good hands. He still can't kick a blitzball to save his life, can he? Wakka's a good man, though."  
  
Lulu tilted her head and squinted her eyes. "How in the world can you be so cheerful? Wakka and I waited for you! Wakka kept trying to find excuses to wonder if you could come back or not. Tidus coming back only fueled his curiosity. You hurt him, you hurt me, and now you act as if I'm supposed to just accept it all and be totally fine with the fact you were gone for seven years. Seven years, Chappu. You have to make amends for those years."  
  
"What am I supposed to do, Lu? Become your slave for the rest of eternity? I'm sorry. There. That's all I can do. I'm sorry. Yeah, going off to war was a mistake. Dying wasn't too much fun either. Ever think about that? I -died-. I faced physical pain you've only just imagined. I faced it all because of you. I can't do anything about that now. Just accept that I'm here, and I'm staying, come what may."  
  
Lulu sighed. "You being here sets everything back. While Tidus was only gone two years, you've been gone seven. Even if I had married someone else, your return would still have complicated things. You just don't understand that I can't push away seven years of hurt. I can't act like you've always been alive...because things..."  
  
"Would've turned out differently, ya." Chappu said, lowering his head and shaking it. "Well, let's at least try to get along, ok? If I can't have you, I can have the war, ya? Sound like a good idea? Think I could help out?"  
  
Immediately, Lulu barked out, "No."  
  
"And why not? I'm versatile, I can do a lot."  
  
"You're not getting involved."  
  
"You my mother? Last time I checked, my mom -and- my dad were both on the Farplane."  
  
"You going to stand there and talk about our parents like that, brudda?" Lulu had seen Wakka the entire time, but thought it best to let him enter the conversation on his own. Her husband had been standing there for most of the talk, and while she felt a bit embarrassed at letting her bitter feelings come out in front of Wakka, she felt safer than if he'd been back in the village.  
  
Chappu turned around, a snarl clinging to his lips. "So what if I am?"  
  
"I'd suggest, Chappu, that you dun talk about our parents in any way but good, hear? Even if we barely knew 'em, they still raised us as far as I'm concerned, and for that, they deserve respect." Wakka gave his brother a cocked smile.  
  
"Still preaching, bro?"  
  
"Maybe, maybe not. You still as stubborn as a shoopuf?"  
  
Lulu nodded and winked at her husband, bringing a few laughs from the former Blitzer.  
  
Chappu's eyes squinted and he turned to Lulu. "Got anythin' to say, Lu?"  
  
She smiled, shrugged, and shook her head.  
  
"That trip from the Farplane fry somethin' up there in that head of yours, Chappu? You didn't think the world would be the same when you came back, did ya?"  
  
With a sigh, Chappu nodded. "A guy could wish, right? Well it ain't the same. It ain't a big deal."  
  
"It's a big deal and you know it." Lulu spat.  
  
"So maybe it is. I dunno. One part of me told me to hope for the best and one part told me to expect the worse." He turned his gaze to Wakka. "Guess I got the worst bit, ya?"  
  
Wakka sighed and shook his head. "Brudda, you got the best 'bit' because you got life. You got a second chance. Why can't you just enjoy that?"  
  
"And why couldn't you have just stayed away from my fiancé?"  
  
Wakka backed up a bit, putting his hands up. "Hey, now, it just happened, Chappu. You can't control those things. Lulu was always there for me. Even when you were gone, and she was missing you like crazy, she was helping me cope. She was there when you refused my gift, there when we learned you were dead...and there every minute of Yuna's pilgrimage. Seven years, Chappu. That's a long time, ya? It's not like I just jumped her the minute you were gone. This took time. Most of that time, we were mourning the loss of -you-."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I know very well. I also know that I'll never be able to hold her again. Take her on beach walks. Spend endless hours of the night talking about everythin' and nothin' all at the same time. Yeah, big bro, you always won out. Looks like you won out here too. You got the girl, got the hero's welcome home, you got it all. What've I got? A second chance at a crappy life. Yeah. I'm really looking forward to -that-.  
  
"...I ain't sorry for going off. I ain't sorry for refusing your gift. I ain't even sorry I died. I ain't sorry for none of what I did. Why? Those were -my- choices to make. And if I wanna help out this new war, I will, and you won't stop me. Not you, not Lulu, not anyone. If I can't have the life I want, I'll take the consolation prize. A bullet to the head on some battlefield. Least it'd be better than being slowly burnt out of existence by Sin. That was a fun trip, lemme tell you."  
  
Wakka's head lowered and a hand reached out to touch his brother's shoulder. Instead of getting to apologize, Wakka received a bruised wrist, and was on the ground in less than a second, his brother's angry, tortured grin staring him right in the face.  
  
"Time to settle this, brudda," Chappu snaked through his clenched teeth. "Time to see who's the -real- hero!"  
  
-----------------  
  
"Is that what caused your...problem today?"  
  
I nodded, picking my gaze off of the ocean and meeting the eyes of the woman who had saved my life only a few hours ago. "Essentially, yes. It could be other things mixed in, but that'd be the main cause."  
  
"And what did you call it?"  
  
"A panic attack. It's where...well...it's hard to explain. Just think of it as a...tantrum that can't be controlled. I'm sure Gary's thrown some tantrums in his time."  
  
"Yes, he has...but not one where I thought he was going to die..."  
  
I smiled, hugging her to me with the arm I had around her shoulders. "Don't worry about it. It won't happen again. I promise."  
  
Lying's bad, I know. I just didn't want her to worry. She smiled and turned her gaze back to the ocean. I did the same.  
  
"It's so beautiful..."  
  
That was certainly correct. The midday sun was reflecting off of the ocean, making every wave appear as if it had a jewel in its crest. It was very beautiful, beautiful enough for one of those postcards every married soldier sends back to his wife when overseas. Beautiful enough, maybe, to make a calendar photo. Maybe even the backdrop of an Internet banner ad. Maybe. But in Spira, there were no advertising executives or professional photographers to take advantage of something so naturally perfect. No leeching assholes to make money off of something that happens every day...something anyone could enjoy if they could find it.  
  
And that is why I was beginning to fancy the idea of staying in Spira. That...among another reason or two...  
  
"Weston?"  
  
I blinked and uncrossed my eyes, focusing on Eimour's face. "Oh, yes. Sorry. It's very beautiful."  
  
She smiled. "What are you thinking about?"  
  
"The future."  
  
"Thinking very hard about it?"  
  
"You could say that," I replied with a warm smile. "It's not here yet...but it does look promising."  
  
Eimour tilted her head to the side with a curiously anxious look on her face, as if what I was about to say was something she'd been waiting to hear for a while. "Why's that?"  
  
I winked. "No reason."  
  
Her nose scrunched and one of her hands playfully smacked my bicep. "Not fair."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Please? Tell me..." her face contorted into one of the cutest pouty faces I'd ever seen...but still, I couldn't tell her. Not yet anyway.  
  
"In time." I replied, adding another wink.  
  
Eimour huffed out of frustration but didn't ask again.  
  
Once again, her attention returned to the ocean, leaving me to my thoughts, rampant as they were. I suppose in every man's life comes a time of ultimate decision. Well, not entirely 'ultimate,' but still final enough to matter.  
  
Personally, since the moment I'd arrived in Spira, I hadn't questioned why. I had not wished to go back home. That could stem from my being a soldier...a soldier being an individual generally trained to adapt no matter the situation. It could also be because I honestly had nothing to go back home to. No wife. No kids. No permanent house. No relatives except all of the foster parents I went through.  
  
To me, at least, staying in Spira was not a bad idea. Nice people...in general, at least. I had expected them to shun me the moment I started mouthing off about being from another world. It'd happened to Yuna and her friends before, or so I was told, and that at least prepared them for me. It still baffled me why I was accepted so quickly, though.  
  
What I hadn't expected was Eimour growing fond of me. That was quite the surprise. It was all over her face. If I was allowed the thought...I was certainly more confident in myself. Despite her homely lifestyle, Eimour was beautiful. Not to sound shallow...I just couldn't help noticing. Sure, she was a bit short, but in America, a modeling agency would've torn her away from her single mother lifestyle and made her rich. That's how good she looked. Yes, I noticed. Yes, I was attracted.  
  
But there was something else...a hidden side...a motherly, protective, wise side that you didn't expect to see. In the past few weeks, I was beginning to see more and more of that side of her, and my attraction grew even more.  
  
However...I was a soldier...I'm not a good catch. I come with a risk that emotions just do not need to be attached to. For that reason...I decided right then and there that I wouldn't tell her anything about how I felt for her. It'd be better anyway. Maybe, if I made it through the war...I'd mention it. But...in all honesty...a part of me didn't expect to make it through the war. That part of me really wanted to die in battle.  
  
I'd had nothing else in my life but war and conflict until Eimour came along...  
  
"Weston?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Your eyes are crossed again," Eimour said, tapping the bridge of my nose.  
  
"Crap." I said, frowning.  
  
She laughed and placed her fingers on my chin, turning my head so that my gaze would meet the coastline. "Isn't that Wakka and Lulu?"  
  
"Yeah. Looks like someone else is with them." I squinted my eyes and then my mouth dropped. "We've got to get down there. Wakka's in trouble!"  
  
I took her hand and started in a dead run.  
  
-----------------  
  
Physical combat is something a modern soldier hopes to never have to experience. I, however, was not a modern soldier. I was a Delta Force man. Fisticuffs were just a part of my training. I was taught, as all special ops soldiers are, to read body language, anticipate the next blow, and counter appropriately. Essentially, a good fight should look like a very coordinated ballet dance, even if what's going on is very chaotic.  
  
I had learned, over many training exercises, that sizing your opponent up was not very helpful. No matter what the size or shape of your enemy was, you were to treat them indifferently. Every man, no matter how small or big, can fight, if they have the know-how. And that's all that ran through my mind as I sprinted towards the three people I saw in the distance. I knew two of them...Lulu and Wakka, of course, but the other, while resembling Wakka, I didn't recognize. It was this stranger that was holding Wakka in a chokehold when I arrived, Eimour gasping for breath.  
  
I honestly don't know why I brought her with me. It just...kinda happened, really. I grabbed her hand and then we were off. The entire action occurred as if it were a reflex.  
  
Anyway...this stranger who had Wakka in a chokehold had his back to me. Perfect opportunity to get the upper hand. Mind you, this guy was a bit smaller than I was, but like I've already stated...in physical combat you never know how good your opponent really is. That in mind, I let go of Eimour's hand...but a second later, she grabbed my hand again. I turned my face to her...a face that probably wasn't too inviting. She blinked and let go, backing up.  
  
"Good idea," I said, aloud. Oops.  
  
The punch itself was powerful; powerful enough to knock me back a step or two. And it freaking hurt too. I took a millisecond or two to snap my jaw back into place and I then took a quick glance at the stranger. He was tall, nearly Wakka's height, fiery red hair, tan skin, and muscles that weren't all that small. This stranger was also already up on his feet and about to throw another punch my way.  
  
Another thing about combat that is often dismissed: time. Yes, time. Time, in a proper fight, slows down. No, I'm not referring to a Kung-Fu movie-like crawl, just enough for both fighters to predict each other's moves. Had I not mouthed off at the most inopportune moment, I might have actually had the pleasure of knocking this man out with one hit. Instead, time began its slowing and I could clearly see this stranger's shoulder muscles tense (he was shirtless...which I neglected to include above. "Shame on you, Weston. Shame.") and knew immediately he was throwing a left hook. I threw all my weight into my back and easily dodged the punch. During this dodging, my fist had already started on a course for his elbow, or at least where I predicted his elbow to be when his arm reached as far as it could. Instead of landing the punch, it was caught by his other hand.  
  
It was then that I really hated the fact I've got such a damn loud mouth. I brought my other hand up in a chopping motion, hitting his left wrist. His grip on my fist released and I twisted my torso to the right, aiming to land a roundhouse kick on him and get some distance between us. His left leg had already stopped my kick by the time my thigh was flexing upwards.  
  
This guy was good. Well, good enough to block my basic moves. Yeah...basic moves. I had more. Of course I did.  
  
I decided to switch tactics. It was obvious that I couldn't subdue this guy without using some sort of pain inducing maneuver. I used my right leg, the strongest of my pair, to lift myself up into the air. Jumping, for me, is never a problem. The fact that I don't go very high is the problem. I was high enough, however, to give him a swift and forceful kick in the sternum with my then-free left leg.  
  
The stranger stumbled backwards about five steps, rotating his arms clockwise to keep his balance. Once both of my feet were on the ground, I twisted them into the sand until I was sure I was well anchored. If he came at me, as I thought he would, I wanted to be able to withstand his force. I doubted that I could, though, even at only five paces. So, instead, I'd let him come into contact with me.  
  
Why? Well...with his force, and some very nice maneuvering on my account, I could vault him behind me using my legs and then pounce him before he was able to get up. That, thanks to my luck, didn't really work too well. He apparently expected the vaulting technique and turned sideways as he speared me, twisting me to the ground. I got back up with a mouthful of wet sand. Lovely.  
  
I was not a happy camper when I turned to face my opponent. He was smiling. He then moved so fast I couldn't really get a trace on his movements. The next thing I knew, my nose was quite bloody. This didn't help my frustration. Out go the stops.  
  
In comes the pain. After he landed a few blows to my stomach as I ran towards him, I connected with a strong blow to the strangers left rib section. I heard at least two cracking noises. I then slid my head to the left as he punched in a rightward-arching uppercut. I landed another strong punch to his jaw.  
  
He popped his jaw back into place with a quick motion of his finger and landed a strong hit to my collarbone. Ow. I countered with a deep punch in his stomach. Not much effect. I must've missed the diaphragm...  
  
One of his hands grabbed my punches...then I tried to use my free hand to punch. He caught that too. Great. There we were, turning in circles, grunting and groaning into each other's faces. We were, in all senses of the word, deadlocked. Well, until I brought my knee into his crotch. That seemed to get his attention.  
  
He bent forward and coughed. I took this opportunity to swiftly bring my knee up into his face. His nose squished sideways against my knee and I could feel his hot blood on my leg as I balanced and then turned on my left heel, spinning around quickly and kicking him square in the chest. The stranger blew backward and landed on his back. He tried to get up, but I noticed that those injured ribs had finally caught up with him.  
  
The stranger slowly got back to his feet, not bothering to hold his bloody and broken nose. He walked forward and lazily raised a fist before falling face first into the sand.  
  
I couldn't help myself. I laughed.  
  
-----------------  
  
"We need to infiltrate Bevelle. Fighting in the Calm Lands won't solve a damned thing. It's Nyka that we need to go after!"  
  
"I know that, Fagan! I'm not going to let those Yevonites take Zanarkand! There's too much importance in that gain. Just think what kind of morale boost the Yevonites will get if they capture the holiest place in all of Spira! We'd never be able to defeat them, let alone get anywhere near Bevelle!"  
  
"Gatta...listen to me. Something -has- to be done about Nyka! He commands the troops. With him gone, the army will disperse."  
  
"Damnit...no. Just -no-. I'm not going to even consider it. Protecting Zanarkand is this army's -first- priority."  
  
"Those troops are a rouse! Something is going to happen, Gatta. Something bad...if we don't figure out what's going on!"  
  
"How do you know? Why should I trust you anyway? Last time I had it straight, you were one of the -enemy-."  
  
Fagan grumbled and shut off the receiver on Yuna's communication hub. The boxy machine clicked a few times and finally responded. Gatta's angry voice slowly faded out and Fagan enjoyed the resulting silence.  
  
During a sleepless night, the idea of having a squadron of soldiers invade Bevelle with most of the Yevonite troops in the Calm Lands came to him like a hammer hitting an anvil. To Fagan, it was just logical. It had made a heck of a lot more sense to him to have soldiers (as well as himself) confront Nyka. Granted, it would probably be a suicide mission, but the reward was worth the price. He was already dead. What did he care about the risk?  
  
If he had really been honest to himself, Fagan would've openly admitted to being impatient about wanting revenge. The idea of forcing Nyka into an eternal prison was very enticing, and getting to that point was a little too slow for Fagan's tastes. The sheer idea of exacting his revenge made Fagan's heart jump into his throat. Good thing his heart was already there.  
  
Fagan knew immediately who was behind him. "How long were you listening?"  
  
"Long enough," came the reply. "Going behind my back now?"  
  
"Maybe. The pace of all of this is too slow."  
  
"Let me decide that."  
  
"Looks like Gatta is actually the one deciding everything. I don't remember military tactics being a part of a Summoner's education."  
  
"My Summoning days are over, Fagan, and you know it."  
  
"Still, you don't have the mind to handle an army. That's why Gatta calls all the shots. You just sit and look pretty for the natives."  
  
"I sit and look pretty for no one. I'm in constant contact with Gatta and I do advise."  
  
"And I'm sure that Gatta takes your advice with a grain of salt."  
  
Fagan heard Yuna audibly grunt. It baffled him how the shy young girl was able to talk so assertively now. He thought it probably had something to do with Tidus' return. Whatever Tidus had taken from her, it was obviously back, and the former Summoner had enough courage to speak up for herself. It really pissed Fagan off.  
  
Yuna grinned. "Who do you think told him to go to Mount Gagazet? It was I."  
  
"Wonderful. I'm happy you were able to make a decision. You must be so proud."  
  
"Don't patronize her."  
  
'Oh great, the boy wonder,' Fagan thought. He turned towards the direction of Tidus' voice. "My apologies. I'll remember to keep my sarcasm in check."  
  
"Yeah," Tidus began. "I'm sorry Gatta rejected your little plan. If you're going to pout like a big baby, why don't you go get a bottle and suck some milk down. Then maybe you can come back and try to be adult about this." Yuna laughed at this.  
  
"Your humorous insult does nothing for me." Fagan said, turning away from the blonde-haired Blitzer.  
  
Tidus laughed. "Hiding behind that fancy talk won't get you any brownie points, ya know."  
  
"Neither will frowning at me," Yuna chimed in.  
  
"How about I just leave and 'suck some milk down.'"  
  
"Good idea," Tidus agreed, crossing his arms.  
  
Fagan looked to Yuna, and then Tidus. He left the room without bothering to excuse himself.  
  
Tidus locked eyes with Yuna and couldn't hold his giggles in any longer. His face widened and his mouth opened, chest heaving as he bellowed. Yuna soon joined in.  
  
After the bout of laughter had ended, Tidus walked over to Yuna and lightly tapped her on the nose. "Good job there."  
  
She smiled up at him. "Not so bad yourself."  
  
Returning her smile, Tidus gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders and brought her into a tight embrace. "Why he is so uptight?"  
  
Shrugging, she replied, "I don't know...He -was- just rejected."  
  
"True...but...what do you think is really bothering him?" Tidus asked after lightly kissing Yuna on the forehead.  
  
"Well..." Yuna started, finger circling along the back of Tidus' neck, "I would guess it has something to do with what made him so angry with Nyka."  
  
"Betrayal?"  
  
Yuna nodded. "Possibly..." She planted a quick kiss to his now stubble-ridden chin. "Ouch. Hey, you need a shave."  
  
Tidus laughed and ruffled her hair. "Thought about letting it grow out...Whatcha think?"  
  
She laughed and then tilted her head, trying to imagine what the love of her life would look like with a beard. Her lips pursed and then she shook her head. "I don't think so," she responded with a wink.  
  
"Well then...guess I'll have to shave," Tidus said, faking a pout.  
  
"Guess you will," Yuna said, trying to hold back her grin.  
  
"Meanie," Tidus grunted, lips meeting hers in a soft kiss.  
  
"That's me, take me or leave me."  
  
"Sold!" Tidus said, laughing.  
  
Yuna smiled warmly and nodded. "Precisely."  
  
"Good to see you two getting along." In walked Auron and out came sighs from the lovers. "Sorry to interrupt," he said with a slight sneer.  
  
Yuna shook her head. "It's ok, really."  
  
Tidus grunted, but nodded in agreement. "Yeah. What's up?"  
  
"Has Rikku talked to you yet?" asked Auron.  
  
Yuna shook her head. "No...why?"  
  
"I thought she would have before she left."  
  
Tidus nodded. "She talked to -me- before she left. Only thing she talked about was a digging crew on Bikanel salvaging some kind of weapon that she just had to see."  
  
"Yes, but nothing about Chappu, or me?"  
  
"Nothing. Something you want to talk about?"  
  
"I wanted to explain my return, as best I can."  
  
Yuna looked to Tidus, and he smiled in return. Yuna turned her gaze back to Auron. "Go ahead," she said, smiling.  
  
"In a nutshell, the Farplane is in a state of...disarray."  
  
"Disarray?" Yuna asked.  
  
"Yes," Auron answered. "Something...or some-one-, rather, has caused a major rift. If the rift isn't fixed...goodbye Farplane."  
  
-----------------  
  
"You ok, Wakka?"  
  
"Ya...just kinda...wasn't expecting Chappu to attack me like that."  
  
I looked Wakka over. The only injury I could see was a bruised wrist, which I'm sure a potion would quickly fix. I stole a glance at the stranger...who I had learned was Wakka's previously-deceased brother, Chappu. Strange how so many people are coming back from the dead recently. Tidus...Wakka's brother. I wondered who was next. My grandma?  
  
Lulu sighed shakily. "I just wish he could've..."  
  
"It's hard, Lu, for him. You know it is...I mean...in his situation, I wouldn't 'a wanted to accept that my fiancé had married another man...specially my brother."  
  
I nodded. "He needs something to get his mind off of you two being married. From what you told me, it's been a while since he's been here. We can't trust him around you two...do you think Yuna could reacquaint him with Spira?"  
  
Lulu bowed her head in thought. Wakka, on the other hand, already had an idea. "Hey, he was a soldier, ya? Why don't -you- take him in, Weston? You guys could relate or something."  
  
I laughed and quickly pushed that idea aside. "I've got enough on my plate Wakka. I can't baby-sit your brother. There's hardly enough room for Eimour and Gary in my house. How can your brother possibly fit?"  
  
"Hey, just a suggestion, ya? I tell ya what. If I can find a place for him to stay, will -you- tend to him? If he starts throwin' punches again, I don't know who could stop him besides you."  
  
I thought this over. I just couldn't do it...it was too straining...and I certainly didn't want to get into fistfights every day. "Look, Wakka. He sees me as the guy who beat him in a fight. He'll want to revenge that defeat. He needs to be with someone he won't feel adverse to."  
  
Wakka sighed. "I dunno who that'll be..."  
  
"I do," Lulu chimed in.  
  
-----------------  
  
"I know Chappu has been going around telling everyone that he and I came back because of the war. This is very false. Until we talked to Rikku, we didn't even know a war was on."  
  
Tidus blinked. "Then why -are- you here? The rift in the Farplane?"  
  
"Correct. We were sent here to fix the problem. Unfortunately, I believe Chappu had other plans."  
  
Yuna sighed. "He came back for Lulu."  
  
Auron nodded. "I thought it strange for him to volunteer for the mission..."  
  
"What, exactly, are your mission goals?" asked Tidus.  
  
Auron smiled. "Now we get to the fun part. First...I should explain what happens to a soul when it leaves a body. An unsent soul, or one not immediately marked for travel to the Farplane, is gobbled up by Pyreflies. Souls are their energy. They only need to eat one to last a lifetime, but there are millions of those things. When a soul isn't sent immediately, it's my job to snatch them out of the Pyreflies and take them to the Farplane. This Pyrefly business is really just the natural order of things on Spira.  
  
"In some cases, how ever, souls are allowed to roam free, and can manifest themselves in the physical world."  
  
"Unsent souls...like -you- were," Yuna said, eyes widening with recognition.  
  
"Yes. Like I was. Hence my job in the afterlife. I have to make sure unsent souls are put in their natural place, be it in a Pyrefly or in the Farplane."  
  
"So," Tidus started, "someone isn't in their rightful place and you've come back to get them."  
  
"It's a little more complicated then that. In fact, this person has broken a pivotal rule. They've killed and taken the body of another to deceive the world. This is where the rift has come. The original soul is trapped not in a Pyrefly or the Farplane, but is in a state of limbo in its own body while the perpetrator is in control. That is the source of the rift."  
  
"Which means, ladies and gentleman," said Fagan, who had been listening to the conversation since its start, "Nyka is not who he says he is."  
  
Auron grunted. "Thank you, Fagan. I was just about to get to that point."  
  
"You were too slow, old man."  
  
Both Yuna and Tidus could were speechless.  
  
"Too slow? I beg your pardon."  
  
"Keep begging, it won't get them two anywhere near comprehension. Look, Yuna, Tidus. To put it simply, a former Maester of Yevon is in control of a body that's not his. With Auron's help, as well as yours, Yuna, I'll be able to trap that bastard in a Pyrefly for eternity."  
  
"And who is this Maester?" Yuna asked.  
  
Auron sighed. "Mika."  
  
-----------------  
  
"You're sending me off to Mount Gagazet?!"  
  
Lulu nodded. "You said you'd fight if you had to. Here's your chance."  
  
"Why can't I stay here?"  
  
Wakka laughed. "No telling how many people you'd beat up."  
  
Chappu grunted and looked towards me. "What are you grinning at? My nose still crooked? Thought potions fix things like that!"  
  
I shrugged. "I think Gatta will enjoy having you in his ranks. At least you can fight."  
  
"That's not all I can do, brudda!"  
  
"Mmhmm." I shook my head. "I'll be there soon myself. Then you can show me what you can do." At this, I felt a pinch on my hip. I turned and saw Eimour shaking her head.  
  
"Not 'soon' Weston."  
  
This garnered a few laughs. Eimour smiled sweetly and I rolled my eyes.  
  
I turned back around and saw Wakka and Lulu grinning ear to ear. I didn't really like those grins. They weren't evil...just knowing...and that scared me for some reason.  
  
"Well, I guess I better talk to Yuna then. I have to get an airship for Chappu," Lulu said.  
  
"I'll go with you," Wakka offered.  
  
Lulu smiled and nodded, then looked to Eimour and me. "You two want to come?"  
  
I turned my head and glanced at Eimour. She shook her head. I smiled. She was being shy again. "No, we're going to try to find a late lunch. I'm pretty sure Gary is worried sick about his mother anyway."  
  
Lulu and Wakka nodded with another knowing grin that utterly pissed me off and turned around, ready to head back to the village. Chappu only stood there, looking very defeated.  
  
"Don't worry, Chappu," I began. "When I get to Mount Gagazet, you'll get another shot at beating me up." I felt another one of Eimour's pinches on my hip.  
  
"Plan on it." Chappu said, his defeated frown straightening out slightly. If I had looked closer, I probably would've seen the beginning of a sneer.  
  
"Will do," I said, turning around and raising a hand.  
  
-----------------  
  
Gatta sighed as he looked upon the rows and rows of tents littering the grassy plain at the foot of Mount Gagazet. All of the Crusaders and Al Bhed had come here willing to defend the mountain with their lives. But Gatta had a sinking suspicion that Fagan had been right about a stealthy squad of soldiers going behind enemy lines.  
  
If the Yuna loyalists could surprise the Yevonites, then that'd just improve the odds for winning the war. The only thing Gatta thought was completely wrong was Fagan's assumption that Nyka falling would quell the Yevonite army. The news probably wouldn't even reach the army camped near the Calm Lands. Gatta knew the Yevonites already had their orders and those orders had a specific deadline for administering the orders.  
  
But Gatta could do nothing about it. He was as blind as a bat in this situation and he hated it. He needed some way see through the darkness of distance and see what the Yevonites had planned. That way, he'd be able to better counter what they threw at him. And it was with these thoughts that Fagan's idea seemed more and more feasible.  
  
Where, though, would he get soldiers skilled enough to pull off an infiltration? He hadn't a clue. Gatta thought for a bit more, eyes staring at the full moon in the sky.  
  
Then, he realized just who he could talk to. He entered his large command tent and turned the bulky Al Bhed communicator on and dialed into Besaid's frequency. Gatta doubted anyone would be awake to hear his call, but he would try anyway. He needed to get this off of his mind.  
  
Surprisingly, someone did answer. That someone was Yuna. She sounded slightly groggy and very out of breath.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi, Yuna. Gatta here."  
  
"What is it, Gatta? Has something happened?"  
  
"I...no. I...need to speak to Weston."  
  
"Weston?"  
  
"Yes, Weston. Could you please get him?"  
  
"I'll...try...I don't know if he'll be up or not."  
  
"Wake him, if you have to..."  
  
"O...ok...if it's that urgent."  
  
"It is. Thank you, Yuna."  
  
The line clicked dead. Now all he could do was wait.  
  
-----------------  
  
A/N: So, it's been a while. A long while. No telling how long since the last chronological update. Well, here's Chapter 21, after a long, long wait. It seemed long for me too. As a matter of fact, the chapter you just got reading is not the original Chapter 21.  
  
The original Chapter 21 was going to be sweet and short, a sort of Weston/Eimour super-chapter that developed the pairing a lot farther than I had originally intended. It was going to be here in time for Christmas. Yes, it was going to be a Christmas themed chapter, where Weston was down and out because it was near Christmas, his favorite holiday. Eimour would cheer him up by throwing a Christmas party based off of what he told her. Unfortunately, I didn't feel it fit the story and I just lost inspiration, so I added that to my "scrapped ideas" document and started anew.  
  
The result is this chapter. After a month or so of toying with ideas, I finally hunkered down and started writing. With Shad's, Noelle's, and Artemis' help, I was able to get this chapter rolling. The first ten pages were almost all based on advice from the lovely ladies mentioned above. The rest was planned plot that I had yet to get to. Plus that whole explaining Auron and Chappu return thing.  
  
Hope you liked it.  
  
Many thanks to Shad, Noelle, and Artemis for making this happen.  
  
Much love to Shad for betaing this bad boy.  
  
And no, readers, AtS isn't in hiatus. I'm writing Chapter 22 as we speak. The pace is starting to pick up, and I see this story ending in about four to five chapters. No guarantees, though. It might have ten more chapters before it ends. Either way, just keep on the look out. The next chapter will be coming sometime between now and when it's done. ^.~  
  
~No 0ne 


	22. Chapter 22: Processions

Chapter 22: Processions  
  
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"I walk slowly, but I never walk backward." Abraham Lincoln  
  
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Eimour slowly blinked out of sleep, her eyes trying to adjust to the moonlight hitting the room. Beside her in the bed was Gary, fast asleep. She gently eased out from under the covers and walked into the main room of Weston's cabin. The cot he had set up near the small dinner table in the room was disheveled and empty.  
  
Seeing the empty cot was a bit unsettling for Eimour. She had expected to see Weston sleeping peacefully there. Instead, the cot was empty and the covers were on the floor. She wondered just what had gotten the soldier out of his bed so quickly.  
  
With a sigh, she shook the thought from her mind for a moment and poured herself a glass of water from the sink in the kitchen nook. She took a bit of ice from the Al Bhed-made cooling chest next to the dining table and plopped it into the cup, swirling the water around for a few moments to get it cool.  
  
After another sigh, she sat down at the dining table and started to slowly slip from the glass. The nights, lately, had garnered no easy sleep for her. She tried to find a reason, but the only plausible one she could come up with was her uneasiness around Weston.  
  
Granted, the beach walks were nice...but in the same respect, they were confusing. She could not grasp why Weston seemed so interested in her. It wasn't that she disliked the attention...it was just foreign to her. Her own haunted past didn't help any, of course, but she could not hammer down what her exact feelings were. Did she merely like Weston because he was guaranteed protection for both her and her offspring, or was she truly attracted to him?  
  
She set the glass back down, not really hearing the ice clanking against the sides. Her mind was too focused on the thoughts at hand. Eimour slowly shut her eyes and tried to bring up a mental image of the man that had chosen to protect her. Almost instantly, his face came to her. She had not been trying for a few milliseconds before it was there, smiling at her. The face she saw was a stark contrast to the one she had seen earlier the day before. That smiling visage warmed her, for some reason. It wasn't only the thought of protection...there was something else. Something she couldn't quite pin down.  
  
Yes, she did find him slightly physically attractive. Despite his hard features and usually unkempt beard, he was handsome. The rest of him, essentially stone grafted to bone, was just as steely as his face. But his smile...the smile he had begun to show her more and more...his smile was what really sank into her. It was warm, inviting, and caring. That smile seemed out of place on a soldier...but it was there...and it was genuine. That smile promised Eimour that Weston would never hurt her or her child, and that everything he told her was true. She knew, without a doubt, that he would never lie to her, take advantage of her, or leave her.  
  
But how did all of that make her feel? She just...couldn't figure it out. Eimour knew that some of her stadium co-workers would've killed to be involved with a man like Weston...but she curiously hadn't found herself fawning after him. Eimour respected him, as he respected her, but she had yet to truly define what he was to her, and vice versa. A good friend? Maybe. A confidant? Surely. A possible lover? She'd have to get back to that one...  
  
The "lover" idea struck her as odd. Here she was denying her own suggestions about him. Nothing else had brought up the subject of "love" but her own mind. Could some subconscious version of herself be jumping up and down in the back of her mind telling her to snatch onto that man and never let go? Quite possibly...  
  
She couldn't go wrong, having a partner like Weston. Well, check that, yes she could. Weston was a soldier...and soldiers don't make good partners, especially when they're as good at soldiering as Weston. She didn't want to have to stay up every night worrying over and over whether or not she'd see him again. Then again, the better the soldier, the less chance of the soldier being killed.  
  
Maybe...maybe she could convince Weston to give up soldiering. Then she could try to allow her feelings to develop. Maybe then, she'd know she wouldn't have to worry about Weston suddenly dying on some battlefield, leaving her and Gary alone. She felt like she -needed- some way to keep him with her. Something to offer as an incentive for his protection. Falling in love with him would be a great answer to that question ... if she could even do that. Something told her that she couldn't. All men were the same. All men would leave her, no matter how nice they seemed.  
  
"That merchant sure was nice before he knocked you up, wasn't he?" she whispered aloud.  
  
Eimour shook her head and growled at the table. She couldn't believe she was so hung up on Weston. He wasn't all she could worry about. Gary was there too...but he was safe ... as long as Weston was there.  
  
She growled again. Every one of her thoughts could be brought back to Weston. Ever since he had appeared in that Luca pub that day, he had infiltrated her life and become its core. Everything she did, everything she thought of, revolved around him.  
  
As her palm slapped at her temple, the front door opened. Startled, she jumped up, the chair almost tipping to the floor. She caught it quickly enough to keep it from going all the way over. In the doorway stood a tall and wide figure, silhouetted against the incoming moonlight.  
  
Eimour's mind recognized the shape as Weston's, but her heart didn't stop pounding until his husky filled the air.  
  
"Nice reflexes there. You must've been up for a while. I didn't worry you, did I?"  
  
Eimour shook her head, setting the chair back into its upright position. "No. I couldn't sleep."  
  
"You either? Must be something in the water." At that, Weston walked to the table and sat down in one of its chairs. He pushed it backwards a few inches to make room for crossed legs.  
  
She smiled at him warmly and sat back down. "Take a walk?"  
  
He only shook his head, eyes gazing to the window, instead of being tacked straight to her, something that had become a natural occurrence when they were having conversation. That worried her slightly. She also noticed that his eyes were very distant. Something was on his mind.  
  
"Something worrying you?" she asked quietly, almost as if she thought she was being too nosy.  
  
"Not really," he replied, still not bringing his gaze to hers.  
  
"Then what has you so spaced out?" She waved her hand in front of his face for emphasis.  
  
He laughed and straightened up in the chair, eyes finally locking to hers. "I've just come from the temple. Yuna knocked on my door."  
  
"What for?"  
  
He tilted his lips a little bit as if not really wanting to say anything about it. Eimour knew, though, he'd tell her if she pressed him. "Well, looks like Gatta's hatched a plan."  
  
"This plan involves you, doesn't it?" Eimour wasn't exactly thrilled with this 'plan' business. She didn't exactly like Gatta at that moment, either.  
  
"I am the plan, as Gatta put it. He wants me to train a squad of nine soldiers to perform special operations behind enemy lines, and then lead it."  
  
"Absolutely not. That's...that's suicide, going behind enemy lines."  
  
Weston laughed. "Not if you're unseen, Eimour. Speaking of, I need to come up with a pet name for you."  
  
"Pet name?" Of course, Eimour knew what a pet name was. She just hoped her question would make him clarify just exactly what he meant by 'pet name.' It also surprised her how quickly he had changed the subject.  
  
"Just a nick name, something to call you so I don't have to say Eimour all the time. Something easier to say...something that doesn't seem so formal."  
  
"Ah..." Eimour's heart slowed at his explanation. Still, he had said pet name, not nick name. A hint? She put that thought to the side.  
  
"Hmm...let's see..." Weston started scratching at his chin, which was covered in scraggly hair. Eimour wished he would shave. She'd not seen him clean-shaven the entire time she'd known him.  
  
"No one's ever given me a nick name. You don't have to. You also don't need to change the subject so quickly."  
  
"But I want to...hmm... how about 'Emmy?'"  
  
"Emmy?" Eimour asked, not used to such a word. It did sound good to her, though.  
  
"Yeah...not good?"  
  
"No...it's fine. Just never heard a word like that before."  
  
He smiled. "Emmy it is then."  
  
"Glad you've decided. Now about this squad business..."  
  
"I'm doing it. You aren't going to convince me otherwise."  
  
She sighed. "I at least have to try. You don't need to stick your neck out, Weston. It's...just insane. Do you know the risk involved in what you're planning on doing?"  
  
He shook his head and laughed. "I -used- to do the whole 'behind enemy lines' thing all the time, Emmy. That's what Delta Force was. We gathered intelligence, rescued prisoners of war, and raised a stink when we had to."  
  
"Still," she said, sighing, "I don't want to see you dead."  
  
"You won't."  
  
"You can't promise that," she said, voice a bit grated as her teeth clenched slightly. She wasn't going to let him win this.  
  
"I can promise you that without a doubt. Besides, the actual sneaking around phase won't come until at least a month from now. I'm not leaving this morning, if that's what has you worried."  
  
"That's not what's worrying me, Weston. Don't you understand? I don't want you hurt. I don't want you dead, never to return. I want to know you're safe...at all times."  
  
"It's not like I'm going in unarmed, Emmy. I'll be safe. Besides, the more I think of you and Gary, the faster I'll want to get this damned war over with. I don't want Gary to know what war is like, understand?"  
  
Eimour sighed and slowly stood. "And I don't want you to know war, either. I want this whole damned war to just disappear. It's a thorn in everyone's sides and I curse the day that bastard Nyka decided to start it! This war is going to get you killed!"  
  
Weston stood as well, but instead of slowly going about it, he simply snapped upwards, fast enough for Eimour not to notice the transition. In her eyes, he was sitting one second and standing the next. "This war is justified. What do you want me to do, just up and quit? Let Nyka trample his way into every nook and cranny of Spira? I can't let that happen and you know it!"  
  
Voice raised well above normal level, Eimour spat, "Why do you think it is only you, Weston, fighting this war. This war is being fought by thousands of people. One man can't change the tide or the outcome! Why is it so important to you? Is war all you live for? Don't you have -something- other than war to occupy your time with? Sometimes, I get the idea that the day the killing stops will be the day you stop, completely. You can't live without conflict, can you?"  
  
Weston's usual warm look turned cold and dark, brow jutting forward in growing anger. "If I just thought of myself as a cog in the machine, I wouldn't be able to survive. I have to think of myself as important to the war so I can force myself to survive. I have to bend fate, deflect bullets with my own mental strength. I have to fight, damnit."  
  
A few tears were forming in Eimour's eyes. She had lost this battle from the get-go, yet she had to go down fighting. "You don't have to fight, 'damnit!' You are your own person, Weston. There are other things you can do to help the waging of this war. You -don't- have to fight. No one is forcing you. Why force yourself to fight when you don't have to!?"  
  
At that, Weston came towards her, Eimour hardly registered the fact he had moved before his hands were gripping at her upper arms. His eyes were gazing deep into her own. Their noses were only millimeters apart. Softly, yet forcefully, Weston spoke.  
  
"I fight for you. I fight for Gary. I fight for everyone on this planet. I fight because if I don't, someone innocent, somewhere, is going to die. I fight because it is my duty. I fight because I want to have a world where Gary can grow up in without having to worry about fighting himself. I want a world where you, Emmy, will no longer feel pain. A world where you will have enough money in your pocket to not have to worry about having food to eat. I want a world where I will be able to protect you and Gary for the rest of my natural life. I cannot have that world unless I fight. If I don't fight, I don't get this world...it's this world that I see every time I take someone's life. I want that world, Emmy, and damnit, I'll fight until I get it."  
  
She had nothing to say against that. Indeed, everything he had just told her clicked her mind -and- her heart. Her eyes were lost within his own, and she knew from his eyes alone what he wanted. She knew his words were true...she knew he'd fight to the death to have the world of which he spoke. It was at that moment, at that realization, that she wanted to wrap her arms around the man in front of her and never let go.  
  
Weston had just put into words exactly why he stuck around her, yet she doubted he knew he had let it out. He had promised her that for the rest of his life, he'd protect her, and with that being spoken out loud, for all in earshot to hear, meant more to her than anything.  
  
Weston smiled and slowly moved his face towards her own. Eimour honestly didn't know what to think of the action. Was he going to kiss her? What would happen then...how was she supposed to react to something like that...?  
  
Weston could see in Eimour's eyes what she wanted...but could he? He...was attracted to her...but could he fully kiss her? Something he'd never done...a real kiss...two pairs of lips connecting out of affection. Instead, he lifted his head and planted a soft kiss into her hair, letting go of her shoulders in the mean time.  
  
"Don't worry. I'm always going to be here for you and Gary, ok?"  
  
Eimour only nodded, her cheeks and ears tingling from her previous thoughts. Perhaps there had been something in her that had wanted a kiss...  
  
"I've got to get some rest. Apparently, Rikku's been on the horn with Gatta about some weapon she found and I'm supposed to take a look at it tomorrow."  
  
"So you're leaving tomorrow?"  
  
"No. Rikku and a couple of her technical guys are coming with her to the Crusader outpost near the jungle. I'll just be gone a few hours. Not going to fight tomorrow." With that, he smiled and returned to his cot.  
  
Eimour sighed, relieved he wouldn't be very far away tomorrow. The previous events had been very taxing for her, and as she walked back to the bedroom, she knew that the rest of her night would be full of welcomed sleep.  
  
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"What took you so long?"  
  
Yuna blinked and then blushed, realizing she had left Tidus in the room over an hour ago for a glass of water. "Oh...right. Sorry. Gatta called on the communicator..."  
  
"Ah. What's up with him?"  
  
Yuna sighed and plopped down on the bed next to him. "He wanted to talk to Weston."  
  
With a yawn, Tidus wrapped an arm around Yuna's shoulders. "What'd they talk about?"  
  
"Something about forming a group of soldiers to go behind the Yevonites' battle line...to gather information before we plan an attack."  
  
"Ah." In all honesty, battle planning of any form was the farthest thing on Tidus' mind.  
  
"Gatta wants Weston to lead them..."  
  
"Isn't what they want to do dangerous?"  
  
Yuna sighed once more and nodded, turning her head. "Very, if things go wrong. That's why Weston's going to spend quite some time training the group. Gatta's going to hand pick nine men for Weston to train. He's bringing them to the Crusader outpost tomorrow. Rikku's also coming because she's got something to show Weston."  
  
Tidus landed a small kiss to Yuna's cheek. "Sounds...fun. What's your take on all of this?"  
  
"I really don't have a 'take' on it...I'd prefer if they didn't have to do something like this...but if they pull it off, we can have an advantage."  
  
Tidus yawned once more and leaned his forehead against hers. "Come on. You think it's a bad idea, don't you?"  
  
Yuna's cheeks flushed at Tidus' easy reading of her. "Yes. I feel that...if they do this, they're going to die. We've had enough death in this war."  
  
Tidus brought up a thumb and gently caressed his love's cheek. "Sadly, I don't think that the death is over with. But just think of the peace that'll come when it -is- over. Try to focus on that, ok?"  
  
She heaved a shaky sigh and shook her head. "I can't...now that we know who Nyka really is...I feel as if we could've stopped him back on my pilgrimage. If I had just sent him then, this would've never happened. I don't...like having to see the world in pain."  
  
With a smile, he gently brushed a few hairs from her face. "Yuna, the world isn't in pain. The world is slowly being pushed together with this war. You've seen how together your followers are...they're all supporting you, and they'll put up with this war because they believe in you. It's not pain they feel. It's duty, honor, and loyalty."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
He smiled warmly and pressed a light kiss to her lips. "They love you almost as much as -I- love you. That's a humongous sum, let me tell ya."  
  
Yuna smiled and started a kiss of her own. "I love you, too. Want to get some sleep?"  
  
"Might just need some of that." With that said, he laid back into the bed, Yuna following suit. He shut his eyes for a moment, but then turned towards her. "You know..."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Sometimes I feel guilty for not helping out Gatta and Weston and the rest of the Crusaders."  
  
Yuna didn't even bother opening her eyes to respond. "End of discussion."  
  
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"I've never been inside here before."  
  
"Not many people have." I tilted my head at Eimour and smiled. "It's not a place people actually want to come to, really." I pointed a finger at the window, which had a clear view of the obstacle course. "They train soldiers here. Not exactly a tourist attraction."  
  
"I understand," she said, admiring some of the plaques on the wall. "Whose are these?"  
  
"Those are Gatta's. This room is his office. He told me to make out a tentative equipment list before he came." I finally found some paper to write on. I quickly scribbled down my 'list.' It really wasn't a list because all I had on there was "Ten knives, ten non-magnetic handguns, and ten hip satchels. The rest would come after the squad was trained.  
  
"He's...very high up in the Crusaders, isn't he?"  
  
"He's the commander of the entire army, dear. Gatta's the top man. He answers only to Yuna."  
  
"Wow...and you're friends with him?"  
  
"I guess you could call us that. More like fellow soldiers, really. We get along, if that's what you mean."  
  
"It's still amazing that you...do you have any rank in the Crusaders?"  
  
I shook my head. "I'm...technically an 'advisor' to Gatta, meaning I offer advice..."  
  
"And help in battle."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Shouldn't you at least join the Crusaders?" she asked, making eye contact with me. "Then, you could say you're actually apart of Yuna's army..."  
  
I smiled. "If this behind the lines training works out, I will be given a rank. The official rank, as far as Crusader ranks go, is 'Conscript Officer Level Three.' Translated, that means I was 'drafted' into the Crusaders rather than volunteering. I didn't really want to become affiliated with them, but if I want to lead this, I'll have to. Therefore, I'm conscripted...and I'm an Officer Level Three, which translates into 'Squad Leader.'... I'm boring you. Sorry."  
  
Eimour shook her head. "No, it's...interesting. I didn't know so much organization went into it."  
  
"Without organization, an army will crumble. I find it all convoluted...but it's still needed." I shrugged and added, "I'm done, so if you wanna follow me to the training area..."  
  
She smiled. "I do. I find this really interesting."  
  
"At least you're not bored..."  
  
We made our way outside to the training area. The obstacle course seemed to really enthrall Eimour. I had to tear her away from it when I saw the small airship approaching. The airship was Al Bhed, its small black frame littered in red and gold tribal patterns. I had learned from Gatta that most of the Al Bhed's technology was reverse-engineered from salvaged machina that predated the Sin era. If the Al Bhed's technology really was ancient, it certainly still worked very well.  
  
The airship touched down and out popped Rikku, bubbly as ever.  
  
"Weston! I've got the -coolest- thing to show you. I think you'll like it."  
  
I laughed. "Then show me." I turned my head and eyed Eimour. She nodded and smiled, urging me on with a shooing hand gesture.  
  
Rikku ran back into the ship and I followed. When I stepped into the airship's doorway, she nearly ran me over. However, she kept her balance though and blinked up at me. "Oh, I thought you were going to stay back there."  
  
"You had me excited."  
  
She smiled at this and then lead me back outside. I never got a chance to even see where Gatta was in the ship. I did hear men's voices coming from within, though, and I was glad that they were at least being chatty.  
  
Rikku led me to a wooden bench near the obstacle course. She set a medium-sized hard-shell black case onto it. After piddling with two side locks, the top of the case popped up only to reveal a yellow foam type material. A growl came from her and I simply looked on, smiling.  
  
"This lining -never- stays in the lid! Ugh!"  
  
"Ever thought of glue?" I asked her.  
  
Her cheeks flushed. "..."  
  
"I'll take that as a no."  
  
After a few more moments she got the top half of the inner foam container to lift up. Under it was what I thought was a Heckler and Koch G36...but it wasn't.  
  
It was in pristine condition, not a single scratch or speck of dirt blemishing its dull olive green body. Well most of it was green. The barrel end was segmented, obviously to disperse muzzle flashes. Under the forward section of the weapon was a black padded grip complete with a non-slip ribbed surface. This weapon had a simple magazine catch, with the release under its trigger guard. The magazine itself was a semi-transparent and looked to hold about thirty rounds. I couldn't quite tell what the caliber of the weapon was since the magazine was empty. Guess I'd have to find out about that later.  
  
The trigger was simple looking and the fire-rate selector above it looked very much like one found on an HK MP5 submachine gun. It was round with a thumb-stem and had a white line that lined up with three red-lettered modes: Single, Burst, and Auto. Above the trigger was a bolt that was inside of the plastic outer covering. This probably made the weapon very adaptable to multiple climates. Maybe even made it water proof...  
  
The butte was accented in a black pad that looked as if it didn't cut down on recoil at all, and a black, upward-incline shaped cheek pad was on top of the stock. On top of the next section was a sight that looked a lot like a red-dot scope. Below it was a marking that really struck me as odd. It read "M8, property of United States Military, manufactured by Heckler and Koch Inc. in Columbus, Georgia."  
  
"M8?" I asked aloud.  
  
"That's what it says. It also says it was made in that United States place you claim to come from."  
  
I looked to Rikku. "Where did you find this?"  
  
"Bottom of the sea, near Bikanel. There were about two crates of this weapon just sitting there."  
  
"How many in total?"  
  
She put her finger to her chin. "About twenty four. There are four different types of it, I think. Four have a long barrel, another four has a very short barrel and stock, and yet another four have this big drum where the clip should go. The rest look just like the one here."  
  
"Hmm. So there's the carbine, light-carbine, sharpshooter, and machine gun model. Wow, versatile."  
  
"When Gatta took a look at them, he thought they'd be perfect for what you have to do."  
  
"Yes they would. Was there any ammo in those crates?"  
  
She nodded. "Just a few boxes. I've already got a team of engineers working on reproducing them."  
  
I smiled. "Excellent."  
  
With that, I picked up the weapon. It was very lightweight and fitted perfectly in my aiming stance. It was only slightly longer than an M4 and weighed at least two pounds less. Everything from the breech arm to the magazine release was ambidextrous. It was, simply put, an amazing weapon to hold. Its over all grade, though, would depend on how well it performed in a live firing test. That'd have to come later.  
  
I put the weapon back in its case. "Can I keep it?" I asked her.  
  
"Of course. Here." She reached into a sack and handed me a heavy box of ammunition. "This is the ammo that was in the crates."  
  
The box she handed me simply read "Winchester 5.56mm" which I took to mean that the M8 used the 5.56 caliber shell used by most assault rifles. Still, the firing test would have to come much later. It was time to meet my men.  
  
-----------------  
  
Gatta sighed and walked out of the small airship, hands on his hips.  
  
"You going to drool over that weapon all day?" he asked.  
  
Weston turned around, laughing. "That depends on if these men of yours are worth my attention."  
  
"Let's hope they are. Fellows, file out."  
  
Gatta shuffled off to Weston's side and watched his handpicked group of Crusaders file out of the aircraft.  
  
Every one of them donned the standard navy blue Crusader uniform, minus the helmets. Gatta had never liked the helmet the average Crusader grunt wore, much preferring the now defunct Chocobo Corps' armor. On each of the men's right hip was a sheath and across their chest was one of the newest editions to the Crusader uniform: a pistol holster. The men were without their weapons, as Weston had requested. Gatta had no clue as to why, but he figured that Weston knew what he was doing.  
  
"So these are your best men?" Weston asked, eyes squinting as he looked at the men standing in a line.  
  
Gatta nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"What the hell is Chappu doing in this group?" asked Weston, a growl in his voice as he pointed to the red-haired man.  
  
This upfront question, for some odd reason, made Gatta shrink back a bit. He gathered himself and firmed his voice. "He took down my entire police patrol upon arrival. It seems he was angry about something." At that, Chappu's eyes flared and, for a moment, he stepped forward. Gatta saw Weston shake his head at the man and Chappu only seemed to get angrier. The man next to Chappu, a tall brown-haired man known only as Nooj put his hand on Chappu's shoulder. This didn't seem to calm the young man, but the grip must've been firm. Chappu couldn't move.  
  
Gatta sighed and nodded. "He volunteered for the most dangerous post I had. I gave him this one. He certainly proved himself after taking out my guards."  
  
Weston only hmmed and frowned. "I don't know. He's a wild card. A stealth squad requires discipline and teamwork, not a hot-headed child."  
  
Chappu roared in anger and finally slipped out from underneath Nooj's grip. Gatta stepped in front of Weston, but he only shrugged him to the side. Weston took the full force of Chappu's lunge and turned it on him. Chappu was on the ground in the blink of an eye.  
  
Weston sighed. "Chappu, if you want to be a part of this outfit, you'll have to not only calm down, but you'll also have to learn how to properly attack a man."  
  
Gatta only heard Chappu grunt. Weston picked Chappu up and pushed him back towards the line. None of the other soldiers, Nooj included, tried to help Chappu back into line. The young man only fumbled backwards and stood his ground in front of the line.  
  
Weston only stood there, staring at Chappu. Gatta knew exactly what was going on, of course. The two men obviously had a bad spot in their past and Chappu had yet to get over it. Gatta laughed aloud.  
  
Both Weston and Chappu looked to Gatta.  
  
"Somethin' funny?" Chappu asked.  
  
Gatta nodded. "Weston must've really given you a beating in the past."  
  
"I did." Weston said, voice devoid of emotion.  
  
The other men in the group chuckled under their breath.  
  
"Look," Weston started. "You have two choices, Chappu. Either you behave and deal with the fact that I will be leading you, or you can leave. But if its danger you want, you're in the right group of soldiers. Besides, you still have that chance at a rematch, just after this squad is done with its job. What will it be?"  
  
Chappu growled and squinted his eyes, but said nothing. After a moment or two, he sighed and hit his fists together. He quietly slipped back into line.  
  
-----------------  
  
And just like that, Chappu was eating out of my hand...for the time being.  
  
The men didn't really look all that special. Of course, that meant absolutely nothing. They could've all been horribly disfigured but still be great soldiers.  
  
I walked along the line of men...until I got to the women. Yes. That's right. Women. While I've got nothing against women being soldiers, I was curious as to how women got into the Crusaders. I turned to Gatta.  
  
"Women?"  
  
Gatta laughed. "The Crusaders are not male only."  
  
"Ah...surprising."  
  
I turned back to the two women and shrugged, moving on down the line. Nothing particularly special about them. Of course not...what was I thinking. I didn't even know who they were yet. I stepped back, far enough to see most of them in one glance and said in a shrill voice, "Sound off."  
  
They just stood there. I repeated my statement. The soldiers started looking at each other confused.  
  
Gatta was laughing his ass off. "What does 'Sound off' mean, Weston? I've never heard it and I doubt they have either."  
  
I grunted. "Ok, soldiers, here's what sound off means. It means each one of you will step forward, give me your name, age, rank, and your background, battle experiences, area of expertise, etc. Got it?"  
  
They looked at each other and shrugged. I don't think so.  
  
"Got it?!" I yelled.  
  
That got their attention. They nodded. Sheesh.  
  
"Say 'Yes, sir,' okay guys and gals?"  
  
They said, in unison, 'Yes, sir' even though I knew they didn't really want to.  
  
I pointed to Chappu on the right end of the line. He stepped forward, clicked a heel, and yelled, "Chappu. Corporal. Battle experience...not so good. I did get a few licks on you though."  
  
I laughed. "Yeah, yeah."  
  
I pointed to the tall, pony tailed man next to Chappu. He stepped forward. "Nooj. Corporal. Participated in Luca Offensive. I'm good at shooting people, sir."  
  
The line laughed. I did as well. "Very well." I said, noting that Chappu and Nooj were going to be two of the four assaulters in the squad.  
  
Nooj stepped back and without me pointing, the next man stepped forward, a rather short individual with blonde hair and a medium build.  
  
"Klodre. Rank of Scout. Former locksmith and hunter in Kilika. I fought in Kilika and Luca. I've got a knack for spotting traps and game, and I can pick locks."  
  
"Excellent," I responded. Klodre would be the squad's Counter- Defensive man. In other words, he'd sneak ahead of the party and spot targets as well as traps and pick locks when necessary. The next man stepped forward. Er...woman, I should say. She was about five foot four inches tall and looked very muscular, even through the baggy uniform. She had short brown hair.  
  
"Acua. Rank of Scout. I was a Luca Goer before joining the Crusaders after the Kilika battle. I've been told I'm a good shot with the Al Bhed's new machina weapon. I fought in Luca."  
  
"Luca goer?" I asked her.  
  
"I was a Blitzer."  
  
"Ah." Acua would more than likely end up being the squad's sniper, but I could use her for recon if needed. She stepped back and the other woman stepped forward, a tall blonde that looked rather out of place. She had a ponytail and wore a uniform that looked way too baggy for her.  
  
"Joli. Rank undefined. I'm an Al Bhed. I was a Missile Maker for the Al Bhed's airships until I was sent to Kilika for trade purposes. While I was there, the Kilika battle broke out and I decided to join the Crusaders. I first fought during the Luca Offensive and helped secure the marketplace. I've been a mechanic most of my life and I especially like making things that go boom."  
  
"Wonderful." Joli would be an explosives person. If they were needed, that is. If not, she could hold her own with a rifle, I imagined. The man next to her stepped forward. He was probably five-seven and looked fairly strong, especially in his forearms.  
  
"Fedra. Rank undefined. I, too, am Al Bhed. I've been working on Airships ever since the Calm started and just before this war broke out, I started assisting Joli with Missile production. I was drafted into the Al Bhed army just before the Luca Offensive. I fought in Luca and then joined the Crusaders."  
  
"Why? The Al Bhed Army is just as good."  
  
"I like the Crusader uniforms better."  
  
The rest of the soldiers laughed. I only smirked. I had my mechanic, and if he was any good, an explosives person too. He stepped back and a man no larger than five feet tall stepped forward. He was muscular, though.  
  
"Iddio. Rank of Healer. I was a Summoner, but my pilgrimage stopped shortly after Yuna defeated Sin. I still wanted to help, so I joined the Crusaders and I've been a healer for them during Kilika and Luca. I have little battle experience, but I can heal."  
  
I nodded. "Good." A medic. He stepped back, the man stepping up looking a lot older than the soldiers around him. He was tall, muscular, had graying hair, and a very rough look about his face. A scar ran from across his nose to the left corner of his mouth.  
  
"Narr. Rank of Officer Level One. I was a bouncer at a bar in Luca during Sin Time. When Lord Braska started his pilgrimage, I joined the Crusaders. I've been a Crusader since then. I had almost retired when the Kilika battle broke out. I participated in the Luca offensive. Not to brag, but I have a body count of thirty four from that battle."  
  
Klodre laughed. "Yeah, Narr took out a whole building of Yevonites."  
  
I cocked an eyebrow. Narr would definitely be an assaulter, probably point man.  
  
Narr smirked a little bit and stepped back once his smug spell wore off. The last man, who was around five-six, stepped forward.  
  
"Nonu. Rank of Corporal. Before joining the Crusaders, I was a technician at Luca Stadium. I helped set up the communicator network during the Luca battle. I fought in Kilika, too."  
  
I nodded. "Well, thank you for that. I think I have an idea for what your jobs are going to be."  
  
The man named Nonu raised his hand. "Yes," I asked.  
  
"Sir, when do we get to go into battle."  
  
I smiled. "I've got to train you first."  
  
"But we're soldiers already," Acua protested.  
  
I shook my head. "You're not properly trained for behind-the-lines operations, yet, though. That's what I'm going to do."  
  
Nonu sighed. "So when do we get to train?"  
  
I pulled my pistol from my pants' pocket and shot into the air. "Right now."  
  
-----------------  
  
Narr had never seen such arrogance. The overgrown sprout with the Al Bhed pistol had shot into the air and then chased the group of soldiers straight to the obstacle course, running right behind them the entire time, voice growling at them all the way. At the end of the course, he showed them the proper hand signals to use and then instructed them to talk to him using only those signals. Whenever someone messed up, Chappu especially, he ran them through the course again.  
  
Four hours later, they knew the signals right and left. The signals themselves were simple. A fist meant 'hold position,' a fist turned into an open hand meant go. The index finger was used to point to things. If you saw an enemy, you'd put your middle and index fingers under your eyes and then, with a show of fingers, mime out the number of targets seen. If you only heard something, you'd cup your ear and, depending on what you heard, you'd make different hand signals, ie, if you heard a gun shot, you'd cup your ear then make a 'trigger pull' movement with your index finger. If you heard footsteps, you'd cup your ear, wiggle your middle and index fingers back and forth and then point in the direction your heard the steps.  
  
Narr knew they were simple, he had learned them fairly quickly...but the way the sprout taught them to him was less than respectable. But the signals were only the beginning. After that, he separated the group into "teams." Those teams each had a different name. He put Narr, Nooj, Chappu, and himself in the Assaulter team. Fedra and Joli, both Al Bhed, were put into the "Explosives" team. Klodre and Acua were placed into the "Recon" team and Nonu joined up with Iddio for the "Support" team.  
  
The teams were each given a card with funny markings. The assaulters were given what the sprout for a leader called King of Diamonds. The explosives team was given King of Hearts. Recon was given King of Spades and Support was given King of Clubs. Whatever those were.  
  
Narr's team was blindfolded and taken somewhere. When their eyes were uncovered...they were...in the middle of a dense jungle. Wonderful. Narr had sort of expected this. Some sort of test to see if they could do their job properly.  
  
Chappu was the first to speak. "What the..."  
  
Nooj shrugged. "It's a test I'm guessing."  
  
Narr nodded. "I know. We've all got pistols, too."  
  
The other two men looked to their chest holsters. Sure enough, the team had pistols.  
  
"Now what are we supposed to do?" Chappu asked.  
  
Nooj bit his lower lip in thought while Narr already knew the first objective. "We gotta find out where we are."  
  
The younger men blinked and then nodded. Narr continued. "That would help us out a great deal. I know we were taken somewhere in an airship cuz' it felt like it. So we ain't in Besaid anymore. We need to find our way through this jungle and find some landmarks."  
  
Nooj and Chappu both nodded, instantly accepting the older man's advice. Narr liked that. Besides, he outranked them.  
  
"Ok, so we gotta get a sense of direction...I say we go whatever way the wind goes."  
  
This got some attention. Nooj titled his head. "Why?"  
  
Narr shrugged. "Just a suggestion."  
  
Chappu shook his head. "No. Let's just head towards the direction with the most light.  
  
Nooj sighed. "The sun's about to go down, Chappu. That's not going to work for very long."  
  
"But if we're near a settlement, the lights from it will guide us."  
  
"If we can even see 'em," Narr said.  
  
"True," agreed Nooj.  
  
"Off we go, then?" Chappu asked with a smile.  
  
Narr and Nooj grunted, but nodded and followed Chappu.  
  
-----------------  
  
The explosives team was dropped somewhere in Macalania Woods. The only instructions they had received were "Bomb the old Rin's Outpost on the outskirts of the woods."  
  
They had no explosives, no weapons, nothing but their uniforms and that silly looking card their squad leader had given them. Still, they knew this was some form of test and made quick work of the woods. When they made it to the outpost, they saw a uniformed Crusader airship pilot standing along side a carrier ship.  
  
He walked up to them and smiled. "Congrats, you just bombed the outpost. Can I see your card?"  
  
Fedra and Joli were both rather confused. They hadn't done anything but made it to the outpost. "Is that is?" asked Fedra.  
  
The pilot laughed. "Yeah. That's just about all you have to do. Make it to the place you gotta bomb. I am wondering how you got past the obstacles so quickly."  
  
Joli blinked. "What obstacles?"  
  
The pilot shook his head. "Which way did you go to make it here?"  
  
"The longest way, of course." Fedra replied. "Taking the shortest route is always the stupid thing to do."  
  
The pilot blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, I think you guys have passed."  
  
They all laughed and boarded the airship.  
  
-----------------  
  
The Recon and Support group had been dropped together somewhere near Kilika temple. Their instructions? Link up with the "injured" assault team in Kilika jungle. Klodre knew exactly what this was testing. Tracking and healing abilities. The recon team would have to track the movement of the assault team and the support team would have to heal the injuries and then radio back to Besaid for an airship. Klodre had to admit, this form of training was rather fun.  
  
Acua held up a fist almost immediately upon being on the ground. Already she had heard something. She turned to the other men and cupped her ear, following with a mimed scream. Klodre nodded and waved the support team to stop and be quiet. They did.  
  
After a few minutes, Acua opened her palm and started to inch forward, Klodre, Iddio, and Nonu following in suit. They made their way into the jungle, following a path that looked freshly cut. Klodre saw something. He tapped Acua's shoulder and then held up a fist. Acua and the others stopped. Klodre moved to the front and began moving forward, motioning for the others to follow.  
  
The former hunter had just found something to track. Three sets of boot prints, one of the six prints showing a hint of blood near the toe. There was the healing part. Now if they could just keep up with the assault team. With an injured person, he guessed they wouldn't be moving too fast. Still, he had his doubts.  
  
Acua stopped him and pointed off to the side. There lay a wooden spike, half soaked in blood. Obviously, one of the assaulters had fallen prey to a trap...just as was planned, thought Klodre. He inspected the area and found a couple more of the spikes, buried beneath the sand of the path.  
  
"Not a nice path." Acua whispered.  
  
Klodre nodded. "These other traps were disarmed. The assaulters aren't that dumb after all."  
  
Acua smirked. "One of them is."  
  
The rest of the group smirked and continued onward. Soon, the jungle gave way and there stood Kilika. In the dying sunlight, the town had an eerie presence. Its wooden piers were lined with torches, the flames flickering to and fro. The group spread out, the support team behind the recon team.  
  
They cautiously walked into an almost dead town. Some people were looking at them from outside their homes, but no direct contact with the villagers was made.  
  
A few minutes later, and they found the assaulters near the chief trade ship pier. Chappu had apparently been the victim of a trap and the other two men had helped him along on the journey to the town. The other two had also been smart enough to check for traps. Klodre just had to laugh. Acua did as well. Iddio simply walked up to Chappu and poured a small potion onto the wound in his foot. The wound soon shrank to nothing and Chappu was back up on his feet.  
  
Klodre nodded to Nonu and Nonu then made the call on the communicator. Within minutes an airship was at the docks. Inside was Gatta.  
  
"Congrats, guys, you've passed."  
  
"Passed what?" Chappu asked angrily. "All I did was get a hole in my foot."  
  
Gatta laughed. "Weston will show you how to disarm traps."  
  
"Don't bother. Old man and Nooj already showed me...while laughing their asses off."  
  
Narr and Nooj began "laughing their asses off" again and the laugh migrated through all of the soldiers before Gatta said, "Alright, let's go. Time to head home."  
  
A few cheers from the soldiers and about fifteen minutes later, they were touching ground near the Crusader outpost in Besaid. Weston walked up to the ship smiling widely. As the teams got off of the ship, he congratulated each of them on a job well done.  
  
Klodre asked, "Where's the Explosives team?"  
  
Weston laughed. "They finished way ahead of time and are now in the bunks getting some rest. You are all allowed to do the same. I'll see you guys tomorrow after lunch time."  
  
The soldiers lumbered off to their barracks and Weston turned to Gatta.  
  
"They're fine soldiers, I'll give you that."  
  
"Thanks. I picked the best I have."  
  
Weston smiled. "Thanks for doing this." At that, he headed back towards his cabin, Gatta entering the airship, headed back to the foot of Mount Gagazet.  
  
-----------------  
  
Yeah, I was tired. Yeah, I was a tad late. Well, tad wasn't really the word. I wasn't expecting Eimour to even be up. But there she was, sitting at the kitchen table. I walked in, sighed, and plopped down at the table.  
  
"What took you so long?" she asked almost immediately.  
  
I shrugged. "Went ahead and tested the men that are going to be under my command for the new special operations unit."  
  
Emmy frowned, obviously not happy with that subject. She dodged it with, "What about that new weapon?"  
  
I cocked an eyebrow at her subjected change, but shook it off and smiled. "It was excellent. It's going to really help the operation out. Get this...it's from the United States. Rikku just about had a heart attack. I told 'em that the United States existed! Now they know."  
  
At this, she kinda tilted her head. "How...could you tell?"  
  
I smirked and responded, "It said 'Produced for the United States Army' right under its stock. It was -so- plainly stated. Quite entertaining."  
  
"You -would- find that entertaining, wouldn't you?" she said, shaking her head and laughing.  
  
I grinned. "Hey, who do you think you're talking to? Of course I would!"  
  
She sighed and smiled warmly. "Thought so." At that, she turned and began walking back to the kitchen. But something about her walk was odd...almost like she was having a hard time walking away. I felt something was up. I was about to get up and go to her when she turned and faced me, her face scrunched in thought.  
  
"Do you want something to eat? The kitchen isn't 'closed' quite yet."  
  
I knew something wasn't right then. Her words were hurried, as if trying to come out as fast as possible...almost as if she was out of breath.  
  
Something was wrong as I was going to find out what it was. I got up and yawned, a nervous tick of mine that shows up in odd situations. I made my way to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You ok?"  
  
"O...of course I am. Do you want something to eat?"  
  
I smiled. "You're repeating yourself. Did -you- eat tonight?"  
  
She nodded in defense. "Of course. I fixed Gary dinner tonight."  
  
"That's not what I'm asking. Did you fix -yourself- something?"  
  
Her eyes refused to meet mine. "Of course. Now what do you want?"  
  
"You haven't eaten have you?"  
  
Still, no answer. I sighed. "Don't worry about me, Emmy, I'll just fix a sandwich. You need to be in the bed."  
  
"Don't be silly," she said, waving a hand. "I'll fix you something. Now go. Sit."  
  
I thought about that for a moment, and then shook my head. I grabbed a loaf of bread from the counter and snatched a pieced of wrapped meat from the cooling chest. "Make me and I'll think about it!" I said, sticking my tongue out.  
  
Apparently, she didn't feel like playing. She grabbed a chair, turned it a certain way, and then shoved me into it in the blink of an eye. Honestly, she'd make one hell of a soldier...well maybe not.  
  
So I'm caught off balance. Nothing to be ashamed of. Really. The next part, when I hit the chair and don't think to stop myself, is when you can start laughing. Gravity takes hold and I flop back, the bread and meat flying into the air and...luckily landing on the eating table.  
  
I heard her laughing. "Told you so. Now what do you want?"  
  
I growled, got up on one knee, and then jumped her. Gently, of course. She fell, my arms cradling her from any hard impact, and I put my nose to hers. "Got. You." I said, grinning.  
  
She only stared at me, blushing like mad. Oopsie, had I gone too far? Then, it hit me...the blush...yeah. I knew what it meant and the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I quickly stood back up and started apologizing. I don't even remember what exactly I was saying. My cheeks had to have been bright red, even through my stubble.  
  
Emmy slowly began to rise from the floor, brushing herself off. She smiled warmly at me and said, "It's...it's perfectly okay. No harm done."  
  
But I still wasn't really ready to face that smile of hers. I was too embarrassed at the thoughts that had crossed my own mind. I turned away from her, mumbling under my breath. I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared out of the window at the sea.  
  
"I wouldn't mind that sandwich...you shouldn't be up this late...and you certainly shouldn't be fixing me something...you need to be in bed."  
  
"I don't mind," she replied. "I...feel better when I know you've made it home safe."  
  
I sighed and glanced at her from the corner of my eye. "I feel better knowing you're here, safe, while I'm out there soldering. It's...nice to have someone to come home to. Loneliness, it's said, is more dangerous than any bullet ever made."  
  
Emmy's cheeks reddened. This was certainly starting to get tense... "I...made some mistakes thanks to loneliness." I saw her then eye the room Gary was sleeping in. "But not all of them have turned out horribly."  
  
I smiled. "Mistakes are a double edged sword. Most of them happen for a reason, though, and I think in your case, as you say, it turned out rather well. At least Gary got most of -your- traits. I still want to strangle that bastard that did that to you. Even if it yielded a beautiful child, emotionally it was just wrong."  
  
I sighed, smile fading. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm fighting for morals that are obsolete. Be the hero, get the girl, defeat the monster, save the world. When I was growing up, that's what I always wanted to do. But now that I've had the chance to be a hero, I see the isolation of it and I really question my choice for a career."  
  
Her eyes moved to me. "So are you saying you don't think you'll get the girl? Or that you regret ever starting down that path?"  
  
I sighed once more. "What...what girl is there to get? Girls never liked me before I was a soldier; they -really- hated me after I became a soldier. Now I'm a man and what have I got to show for it? I've never even romantically kissed anyone. It's pathetic. Why try for that path when it's hopeless in the first place? I dunno...there are times when I think I've got some hope...but...then I see what I do and how I do it on the battlefields and I think to myself, 'How can she ever love a killer like me? How could I give my heart to her when I don't have a heart to give?'"  
  
I saw her shoulders slump, and I had realized I had been too honest, too blunt with her. Her eyes seemed to glaze over and all she said was "Oh..."  
  
Crap. She sighed. "If that's how you feel..." and in a voice almost too low for me to hear added, "but I feel you're making a mistake..."  
  
I sighed and sat back down, ready to make a whispered statement of my own. "I guess...I guess I just know how to..." I said, full voiced. I then added, very softly, "how to deal with these new feelings..."  
  
That got her attention. Her head perked up and she briefly caught my gaze before lowering hers to the floor. A rueful smile came across her face. "It's getting kind of awkward, isn't it?"  
  
I laughed uneasily. "Awkward? I think we passed that the first day I woke up in your apartment." He laughs. "Awkward is long over. Tense is more like it."  
  
She smirked, shaking her head. "How about 'uncomfortable?' That sounds a bit more like it." Then she giggled, probably at the absurdity of our conversation.  
  
"Hmm. Well...if it really is that uncomfortable, I can go see if they've got room for another soldier at the barracks."  
  
Emmy shook her head, almost violently. "No! Er...I mean, if anyone, it should be Gary and I who leave. This -is- your house, after all."  
  
I shook my head. "Nah, I don't think you two should leave. This would be a perfect house for you guys. I hate to keep intruding. I can build houses, you know. I built this one. If you want, I could build you a really nice house, big and plenty of room for toys for Gary. I'm going to make sure you guys never have to worry about money again."  
  
She smiled. "Thanks, but," and she looked upwards, indicating the small cabin, "this is home. And...you're a part of it. I don't think I'd feel right living here without you."  
  
Wow...I was kind of shocked...but I honestly felt the exact same way about her and Gary. I could only smile to that. I stood up, too. My arms crossed as I thought about the situation.  
  
"Well, I think I might be able to stay, but we really need to do something about this 'uncomfortableness', ya know. Any ideas?"  
  
She stepped forward, cheeks flushing. "I...I have a few..." And with that...she leaned upwards and pressed her lips to my own.  
  
To say I was surprised by the bold move would be an understatement. To say I didn't enjoy the kiss would be flat out wrong. I just couldn't help myself. I was grinning from ear to ear. But I wasn't going to let her win at this game.  
  
I leaned forward, rested one hand on her hip and the other on the back of her head. I dipped her forward and gave her the best and deepest damn kiss I could muster.  
  
At last...I was whole. I had my purpose. And nothing, not a damned war or Nyka himself was going to keep me from coming back to Emmy. Not a damned thing.  
  
-----------------  
  
A/N: Yeah, yeah. It took a little while. But look at all those lovely words! Just over 9500 of them! How about that? :P Oh, and I've broken the 140,000 word mark. Whee. Dang this fic is too long :P  
  
Been busy, but I got some inspiration and I was finally able to work out some details with Weston's squad. Go me.  
  
The "thank you"s:  
  
Thanks to Jave for pointing out the HK "XM8" Assault Rifle, currently in field tests to replace the M4 as the Armed Forces' main assault weapon. It's a beautiful gun. (- carbines/xm8.html)  
  
Thanks to Shad-chan for sticking it out with me and betaing this behemoth, as well as offering lovely advice. I just keep rushing that Weston/Eimour fluff! Shame on me!  
  
Thanks to Artemis for making the last segment of this chapter happen. It wouldn't even be there if it weren't for her.  
  
Thanks to the guys and gals at RPGclassics.com for digging AtS and offering it an alternate home (should be up soon, at least that's what the mods tell me ^_~)  
  
Thanks to the readers for sticking with me and my late as ever chapters. Hey, here I am at 1:30 in the morning posting this thing when I'm supposed to be getting up early and going to class today :P I even wrote on this with a research paper due tomorrow. Who loves you guys? I do. Keep reading ^__^ Not long to go, now. Just a few more chapters.  
  
~No 0ne 


	23. Chapter 23: Lighting the Fuse

Chapter 23 – Lighting the Fuse

**He Said/She Said**

"Nobody gets out of this pit alive/No, nobody gets out alive." – _Nobody_ by Skindred

**Breakfast**

"What are you really here for?"

Fagan dropped his fork, looking up and to the left at the hulking figure of the red haired man he had come to know as Chappu. The brazen young man had offended Fagan on many occasions, asking too many questions, mostly at very inappropriate times. Fagan had not had a solid, warm breakfast in ages. He knew the technique well; it was a form of interrogation. He had used it many times in the temple, questioning radicals.

"Well? Do _you_ even know?" Chappu continued the forceful questioning.

Fagan turned back to his food and muttered, "As with the morning previous, I answer with a mumble."

Chappu raised a fist, but the even taller figure of Auron loomed in the hut's doorway. Chappu's fist stopped moving mid-arc.

"That's enough," said the gruff voice. "I'm sure Fagan would like to eat his meal without being patronized. It's time to speak with Yuna, Chappu."

Chappu blinked and turned his head, looking at Auron over his shoulder. "Speak to her about wha-"

The stern look on Auron's face reminded Chappu of what he had forgotten. He turned his cold glare back to Fagan, who met it just as coldly. The young man acted as if he were going to say something, but then huffed at Fagan and walked towards Auron. The two men left the hut, allowing Fagan to turn back to his food.

"I don't know why we even feed that bastard. I don't trust 'em."

"You don't trust anyone, Chappu."

"Very true."

"Do you trust Weston? He _is_ leading you on a mission later tonight, isn't he?"

"That man couldn't lead a Chocobo, let alone a squad of soldiers."

"How do you mean?" asked Auron, countenance morphing into a curious stare. "I've heard he's quite the leader, actually."

"Psh," Chappu sounded. "Those other 'soldiers' are just too hyped about the mission. It's going to fail. I know it."

"Why?"

"You ask too many damn questions, old man. Think about it! Weston is completely different from a Crusader. He's too secretive in his approach. He's not brash enough. You have to hit the enemy hard and fast. The idiot's going to have us sneak in quietly, do some damage, and then try to flee without being detected. What kind of plan is that? A coward's plan, that's what."

Auron grinned. "I think, Chappu, that Weston's objective is to keep as many of the squad members alive as possible without the enemy knowing what hit them."

"They _better_ know what hit 'em. I ain't doin' this if I don't get recognition."

With a roll of his eyes, Auron turned and started up the steps to Besaid's temple. "Remember, I'm the one speaking to Yuna. You do not need to add anything-"

"-and I should stay quiet unless spoken to. Yes, I've heard this before," Chappu said, a snarl etched into his voice. "I still think telling her this _now_ is a bad idea."

"Lord Braska wants her to know now, so we tell her now," replied Auron, head turned towards Chappu's. His stony eyes peaked from the upper rim of his dark sunglasses. The glare kept Chappu quiet until the two stepped into the main chamber of the temple.

**Worries**

There was always something there. Something that nagged at me every time my mind wandered. Something important. But I didn't know what it was, neither was I confident that I was ever going to know. This was something so important that a little nag was _always_ there. I knew something wasn't right, and I don't believe it had anything to do with anyone, or anything, but me.

Sure, I didn't belong in Spira. That something though, I knew it was deeper than just me being out of place. I knew it ran farther than that. Not only did I not belong in Spira, I felt that, however I got there, it was wrong too. Very wrong. So wrong it was unnatural. Someone had screwed with the very strings of the continuum or something. _Some_one had messed with the laws of the world, universe even.

Or maybe it was just indigestion. Tip for any weary travelers: when Besaid has a feast, politely decline anything that resembles a green potato. Trust me.

The feast, mind you, was a nice gesture. But the people in this village really believe in eating some gaseous foods. And they believe even stronger in the fact that anyone being honored by the feast should eat _everything_ prepared for the meal.

I suppose you could say I was more nervous than bloated, but I wasn't going to admit it to anyone. The pained look on my face and my sweaty brow were going to be solely attributed to that green potato looking thing.

The mission was looming ahead, only mere hours away, and I was nervous. More nervous than ever before. I'd been through covert-ops many times, but this time, and I think it had more to do with me not knowing my team as well as I _needed_ to, I was sweating rivers. Something I hadn't done in ages.

The plan for the mission was simple: The Recon team sneaks into Bevelle from the front gate and takes out any opposition on their way to a command tower. They make their way to the top level of the tower, a facility a mile or so south of the temple. They must clear the way for the other teams. The rest of the teams are dropped from an airship into Macalania Woods, the Support team setting up a base of operations in the barracks level of the tower and the Recon team providing sniper fire from the top. The Assault and Explosives teams make their way down to the adjacent weapons and ammunition storehouse. Explosives are planted.

If all of _that_ goes right, then the Support and Recon teams clear shop and all the teams make a quick jog through a thru-way, bypassing the core of the city and coming up right to the rear of New Yevon's line in the Calm Lands.

The Yevon guys have set up camp just to the south of the eastern cliff-wall in the Calm Lands. There are two central hubs within that camp: one that acts as a munitions dump and one as a communication center. While the Yevon military lacks the electronic communication the Al Bhed have granted Yuna's forces, they have a network of runners who ride Chocobos back and forth between the battalions.

It's up to the Explosives team to take care of the munitions dump, with the help of the Support team. The Recon team will set up a sniping point a few hundred yards to the west of the communications center. They will pick off any opposition that's directly in the way. It is then up to the Assault team to pull of a quick genocide of the communication runners and their chickens. I mean Chocobos.

If anyone of us is left alive by the end of the night, we fall back and regroup on the thru-way path to the south of the Calm Lands and call for EVAC.

Ok, so it wasn't that simple. Sue me.

At least now, my worrying can be justified. This was one hell of an operation, and only a tight-nit and talented squad could complete it flawlessly. Unfortunately, my squad didn't have all the training it needed. Granted, they were all good soldiers, but the month or so of training I had given them still wasn't enough. They weren't used to having to be careful in a war. They all had been used to the Pickett way of things: charge in, kill as many as you can, and repeat. It was extremely hard to get that trained out of them. I had been successful in doing so, but it took nearly two weeks of time we had precious little of.

The last two weeks were CQC training and a little bit of Urban Warfare. The squad picked it all up like a sponge, but I still had my doubts. Regardless of their experience, this was going to be their first black op, and despite their service records, they were green in this area. Neon green, in fact. That test at the beginning of the training was only a small taste of what real Special Forces deal with day in, day out.

"Sir?"

I blinked and tried to leap to my feet. My chair, already leaning on its two back legs, fell back and I went with it. Not missing a beat, I tried to catch myself on the table in front of me, and it too came with the chair and me. After it was all said and done, I was covered in cold coffee and some form of jelly leaking from the pastry on my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and tried to keep my anger down. To my left, a small, feminine, laugh was sounding. Acua seemed to be enjoying my plight.

With a grunt, I got to my feet and looked down. My white tank-top was now mostly brown and red. I quickly took the garment off and threw it to the ground. After picking up the table and chair, I shook my head and turned towards Acua.

"Yes?"

Still giggling, she said "Good thing Eimour wasn't here to see that. She'd tell you a thing or two."

I nodded, but kept my stern look. Eimour and Gary had already said their worried good-lucks and had left sometime earlier in the morning. I forced them to leave. They didn't need to see me off. It'd just make them worry more, even if I thought that to be impossible.

"Rikku's brother dropped off the explosives just now. She showed Fedra and Joli how to use them. She then blew up an empty box."

I cocked a brow. "At least it was empty..."

"Klodre and I were wondering what time we'd be sent out," she shifted a few locks of her hair out of her eyes and made eye contact with me. Something told me she had something else on her mind.

"Shortly before dark. You'll make your way through the forest. Should be dark by the time you reach the front gate of the city. From there-"

"I know, sir. I just wanted to know when we'd be heading out. Thank you." She made no effort to walk away, jaw clenching as she obviously battled with the idea of saying something else.

Prompting her, I asked, "Anything else?"

She nodded. "I don't know how to put this."

"Bluntly is fine."

Again, she nodded, and then made eye contact with me. "I don't want to die."

"Neither do I." The question took me aback. I tried not to let it show, so I kept my exterior as stern and calm as possible.

"I mean, I really, really don't want to die," she affirmed, voice growing a bit more forceful.

"Again, neither do I. What are you getting at?"

"I've...I've got someone back home..."

Ah. I nodded. "As do I, as you already know. Don't worry, if we all stay disciplined and act as a team, we'll be fine." This was not good.

"I know you said soldiers are supposed to do their duty, and that we were a group of people that didn't need to be tied down."

I blinked. "I said that?"

"Yeah."

"Well, forget it. Seeing as I'm kinda tied down myself, I can't exactly say that now can I?"

She shook her head. "I guess not."

"You're not alone. I've got someone I'm fighting for too. Don't worry, I'll make sure all of you get back alive." Inside, I was cringing at the statement. I knew I couldn't make a promise like that...but I had to keep her assured. I needed her as calm as possible because without her, I doubt the mission would succeed. Hell, without any of them as calm as possible, I doubted the mission would succeed.

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

I smiled back. "Any time."

She jogged out of my office and back to the training area, where all of the teams were going over the mission plan. I sat back down and watched them from afar. They had come a long way, but the journey had just begun. I counted every member present except Chappu, who had asked to have the morning to take care of final business before the mission. Whatever the hell that meant.

I hoped he made it back soon. He'd need quite a bit of preparation for tonight, because tonight was going to be big. Tonight was going to be the longest night of all their lives, including mine.

**The Truth**

"We're here to talk to you about Tidus." Auron told Yuna, who had allowed them room at the dining table.

She nodded, clearing two plates from the table and offering Auron and Chappu some breakfast.

"Thank you, but food will not do us much good." Auron said.

Chappu laughed, beating his fist against the table. "True," he remarked after catching his breath. Auron, however, wasn't amused.

Always quick to the point, Auron said, "Tidus is not back simply to be back."

Yuna pursed her lips and raised a brow. "Oh?" she said, her voice not showing a hint of emotion.

"He has an obligation. I fear this was not communicated to him."

Yuna tilted her head to the side. "He certainly hasn't mentioned anything like that to me." Auron could tell she had her doubts.

"Does he have a blue stone?"

Yuna nodded. Tidus had shown her the stone the second day he had been with her.

Auron nodded as well. "And his sword?"

"Sword?" She blinked at this. "No, he had no sword with him."

Trying to hide his disappointment, Auron coughed, cleared his throat, and replied, "I see."

"What's this about a sword?"

Auron's eyes closed and he rubbed his stubbly chin. "Tidus was given a stone and a sword when he was returned to Spira. Those two items are key to his fulfilling his obligation."

"What _is_ this obligation?" Yuna asked, more forcefully than she meant to.

"We have two rogue entities in Spira. Spirits that are not supposed to be here. We know one is Nyka, but the other one we're not too sure of."

She simply nodded. Nothing, it seemed, could surprise her at this point. Calmly, she asked, "And how do you know these spirits are here?"

"Your father told us outright that Nyka was a rogue spirit. But he told us that he knew not who the other one was. Just that if the two spirits were not neutralized, this war would last forever. That's why he sent Tidus down. That blue stone is a soul-stone. It can hold two souls and lock them away for good. This keeps the souls from ever becoming rogue again?"

"Rogue?"

"The souls have come back to Spira from the Farplane without first being resurrected. They are, in a manner of speaking, invincible. The only weapon that can harm them is-"

"The sword," Yuna finished, nodding. "So it's up to Tidus to get these souls in that stone?"

Auron nodded. "Right. That is his obligation. In return, he may stay here, with you. He has been fully resurrected. He is no dream, meaning he is not like the spirits. He is _not_ invincible. Therefore it's imperative he stays safe until Chappu and I can locate the second rogue spirit. Until then, he's not to try anything dangerous."

"And how, exactly, am I supposed to keep him from doing anything dangerous? Have you had his cooking?"

Chappu laughed heartily at that. Auron gave a weak smile. "I'm sure you have your ways, Lady Yuna. Now, if you excuse us, Chappu has his own obligation to fill."

They both stood, Auron bowed, and then left, leaving Yuna to her thoughts.

**Prep**

The members of my squad were milling about the training area, looking at all the makeshift tables with their weaponry laid down upon them. I do believe they were antsy. I saw Acua check her sniper rifle, courtesy of HK and the US military, four or five times in less than fifteen minutes.

I shuffled a few maps, put away a couple of pencils, and stood. With a fleeting glance at Gatta's office, I shut the door behind me and twisted the knob to make sure the door had locked. My hands tingled as I walked down the hallway, towards the barracks room. I suppose I was feeling a bit antsy as well. My hands tingled once more. They wanted weaponry to grip, and they'd soon have their wish.

Shuffling through the bunk beds, left in pristine condition by their soon to depart owners, I remarked on how going into battle, every little nuance about something caught my attention. The way the sun hit the metal bed-posts, how the dust rose into the air as the setting sun snuck its final rays through the windows. My ears heard every chirp, creak, and scuff in this room. I was slowly getting into the zone. Soon, I'd be in my soldiering mode, if you could call it that.

To describe it best would be to liken it to euphoria, but too many think _pleasant_ things when they hear that word, so I'll just say "mind state." Most soldiers call it the "zone." Regardless, I was slowly becoming a different person. My muscles were starting to come under my complete control. Once I had a weapon in my hand, said weapon would become more or less an extension of my extremities. Sure, it sounds corny, but it's true. Hell, I didn't even really have to concentrate on aiming either. It would just become second nature.

With a slow exhaling breath, I opened the door leading to the training grounds, walked through the threshold, and shut the door behind me. The soldiers all turned their attention to me. They snapped together into a line and saluted. Inwardly, I smiled, but I kept my stony countenance for a moment longer. Finally, a smirk crossed my lips and I said jokingly, "I hope you guys don't do that in the field. I don't want to get shot at first." I winked at them they returned it with a laugh in unison.

I walked over to the nearest weapons table and picked up a pistol I'd never seen before. It resembled the Al Bhed's accelerated pistol, but it definitely had a clip. The receiver was on top of the gun and an uncovered magazine of rounds was sticking out of the top. I looked to Fedra for an explanation.

"Ah, I see you found the older pistol."

"Older pistol," I asked.

"That's right. Normally uses an ancient type of ammo. Joli and I modified it to accept the ammo from the HKs. The clips are loaded through the top and with every shot, the clip is lowered and another round chambered. When the mag's empty, it shoots back out of the top."

I nodded. "I'm familiar with that type of loading. Accurate?"

Fedra nodded. "Very."

"I'll take it."

He looked at me strangely. "Why not use one of the accelerated pistols?"

I shrugged. "I've used them enough."

He didn't enquire further.

I moved over to the table where the rifles were laid out. I picked up the carbine model. Klodre grunted in my direction. "Going for rate of fire _and_ accuracy, eh?"

I nodded. "I'm no sniper, and I'm not a spray-and-prayer either. This'll do fine."

He nodded.

With a quick motion, I shoved the pistol and its magazines into my right pocket and slung the carbine over my right shoulder. I then placed about thirty magazines into my satchel, which was slung over my left shoulder. The crudely drawn maps from Gatta's recon airship were in my left-knee pocket; lighting device, pencils, and compass in the right-knee pocket. Stuffed into a sheath attached to my left breast pocket was my combat knife. Gatta had sent us ten daggers, which I asked Joli and Fedra to modify. The daggers had been about eight inches in length and double-edged. I had the two Al Bhed serrate one side of the blade. This allowed for quick dispatch of an enemy by way of throat cutting. Yeah, morbid, but we had to be quick and efficient in our work.

Everyone else was similarly dressed and equipped. We all had green, spotty camo on. Wouldn't work for Bevelle really well, but it'd help once we got to the Calm Lands. Well, _if_ we got to the Calm Lands, that is. The only differences in the squad were that the Assault team carried more clips and a mix of carbine and light-carbine M8s, the Explosives team had specially made satchel charges and light carbines, the Recon team carrying the long-barrel, silenced, sharpshooter M8s.

Nonu had his communication device strapped into a tight-fitting satchel wrapped around his waist. The satchel had steel lining so it could protect the small and easily broken Al Bhed communicator that linked the squad to Gatta's HQ at the line in the Calm Lands and Yuna's HQ in Besaid. We'd only need the device when we needed to call for EVAC. Nonu was the only one with the device and he had it turned off. Radio chatter was deadly on a special ops mission. The squad would be communicating through hand signals only. I wasn't even risking whispers.

Iddio had a miniature staff strapped to his back. It resembled the one Yuna had in her study in the temple, but the coloring and symbol were a bit different, but not by much. The staff was only about two feet long, and looked like the old World War Two era shovels in the GI's rucksack. The only difference was that this staff could heal wounds as minor as scrapes and as major as death, if treated in time. Of course, if the head is gone, the corpse is shit out of luck for resurrection, from what Iddio told me. I'd be making sure my head wouldn't be rolling tonight.

I finished loading up on ammo and motioned for everyone to group around me. They quickly did as asked. After clearing my throat, I brought out a folded sheet of paper from my map pocket and unfolded it, holding it up so everyone could see. On it were the steps to the operation.

"Let's go over this one more time, guys." They nodded in response. "Ok, first thing: Klodre, Acua; you two will sneak into Bevelle from the front gates off of Mushroom Rock road. It won't be well guarded. Take any opposition out from afar. You've got suppressors, use them." Only the two in question nodded.

"Sneak along the outer-rim of the city. It will be the least guarded area. Don't stop for anything. Shoot on the run if you must. I'd prefer you stay concealed, though. Use your knives if you can sneak up on guards in the way. About a mile or so south of the temple and north of the back gate area is the New Yevon command tower. From what Fagan told us, the soldiers stationed there are reserves because of Nyka sending his best troops to the Calm Lands. Quell any resistance you find there, make it to the third floor observation deck, and clear the back gates, the ones leading to Macalania Woods. The rest of us will be waiting for you to dispatch the two guards we know are there.

"When those guards fall, the rest of us will enter the city and make our way to the tower. The Support team will take the second floor, or the Barracks level of the tower. The Assault team will accompany the Explosives team to the adjacent munitions and weapons warehouse and/or dump and blow it.

"Once it's been blown and our diversion tactic successful, all teams high-tail it along the northern rim of the city, accessible by the aqueduct running under the road. The access point is just to the right of the tower." I then pulled a map drawn by Fagan, the access point circled, the command tower and munitions store dotted. An arrow follows the aqueduct all the way to its exit point, just below the rim of the city leading to the Calm Land Yevonite line.

After letting the squad soak all of that in for a moment, I continued. "Once we exit the aqueduct, the Recon team will set up a sniping position here." I pointed to an area of the map to the left of the line. "It's a steep climb to the top, but it's not inaccessible. This cliff should provide a nice vantage point. Be sure to flip the night-vision mode of your mounted scopes on. Also, be sure to turn the NV scope option off if the hornet nest comes alive. The flashes of light from return fire _will_ blind you if you're looking through the NV scope. If that happens, I suggest switching to the thermal mode.

"The Assault team and I will be watching through our own scopes. Once we see the path clear, we will make our way to the communications area. The Explosives team accompanied with the Support team will take the munitions store. The Recon team will provide constant sniper fire for us. Each of your knives has one of the power-cores of an Al Bhed pistol in the grip. Recon team, when we move out, strictly use the thermal mode of your scopes. You will see a fire-orange aura around your squad mates. The Yevonites will not have this aura. Those of us using the accelerator pistols will have an even stronger aura.

"After that, it's simply a matter of retreating to the exit point of the aqueduct and calling for EVAC with the communicator. Questions?" I put away the map and objective list and looked to each of them. Of course, they had all been briefed dozens of times before, but one more briefing never hurt. Joli raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Someone at the fence for you sir."

I blinked, gazed out at the fence behind my squad, and there, gripping the wire intently, was Eimour. I sighed and nodded. "I'll be right back," I said and began jogging to her.

When I made it over to her, I hopped the fence and landed next to her. She gave me a warm, and somewhat teary smile. Something in me ached at that sight, but my exterior stayed firm. I needed to concentrate on the mission.

"Yes," I asked, although it sounded colder than I had meant it to.

She twirled a finger into a lock of hair on her shoulder. "I want to give you this." She then pulled something from an area of her body I had never tried to focus too much on in her presence. For a moment, she hesitated, the small rectangular piece of metal pressed against her chest, just above the crevice she had pulled it from. After a quick nod, she pulled her hair up and fiddled with something on the back of her neck. It was then that I saw the chain attached to the rectangle. The chain was so thin and tarnished, it blended well with her tanned skin. No wonder I had never seen it before.

After a moment or two, she unhooked the chain and held it up to my eye level. I tried to make out what was inscribed on the piece of metal, but she dropped the necklace into my unconsciously outstretched hand. The necklace would be too loose, therefore too bothersome for me to wear in a combat situation, and I was about to tell her this when she put a finger to my lips and nodded.

"I know you can't wear it, so keep it close to your heart." To stress this, she patted my left breast pocket. I slipped it in the pocket immediately. She smiled and then reached into her own top pocket, pulling out a thick piece of folded parchment. Again, she hesitated, but then said, handing me the paper, "Read this when you're alone."

I nodded. "I thought we already said our goodbyes." Again, I was cold, but I couldn't help it.

She simply smirked, acknowledging the fact that I was probably acting so cold because I didn't want my troops to see my soft side. With a grin and a soft brush of my stubbly cheek, she whispered, "Come back to me, soldier."

At this, I couldn't help but smile. I then snapped a salute and said, "Yes, ma'am!"

Laughing, she leaned up and forward, placing a soft kiss to my chin. I heard my squad giving off a few whistles and hollers. I turned my gaze to them and shook my head. They quieted down quickly.

Eimour wrapped her arms around my middle and then turned, whispering, once more, "Come back to me."

I nodded to her back and hopped the fence, heading back toward my squad. Forcefully, I said, "Not a word," as I came back into the circle. After a quick glance at the time, I pointed at Klodre and Acua. "Time to move, you two. We'll be right behind you."

They nodded, gave each other quick glances, and jogged off to the small carrier airship that'd be taking them to Mushroom Rock road. Hopefully they could get dropped without being seen. I just wished this world had some parachutes.

Seconds after they boarded the ship, it rose into the air and shot off at great speed. The good thing about a small airship was that it ran pretty silently. About five minutes after they left, the rest of the squad and I boarded a similar airship and shot off towards our drop point. It would take all of my strength to get up out of that comfortable airship seat and take lives once again.

**Phase 1**

Klodre and Acua quickly exited the airship and immediately began a sweeping maneuver on the section of the road they had touched down on. It was completely devoid of any life, save a few weeds jutting out of the rocky path that lay in front of them. Without hesitation, the two jogged down the path, their drop point only meters away from the entrance to Bevelle. Still, they weren't taking any chances. Klodre was on point, Acua frequently checking her "six" as Weston had called it (which meant she quickly looked over her shoulder every few feet. Paranoia and survival were one and the same on this mission, Acua had noticed).

They both stopped when Klodre reached the corner of the road and the path leading to Bevelle. Weston had told them to try to take the guards there out from a far. Unfortunately, Klodre and Acua had both noticed that the path was cut directly into the cliff, so they'd have to be in the ocean to get a clean shot off to anyone inside of the entrance to the path. So they'd have to rely on blades. Klodre knew that accuracy at a close range with a ranged weapon was suicide. Weston had told him so many times.

Acua had caught on to Klodre's hesitation and slung her rifle over her shoulder, drawing her blade from its sheath. Klodre did the same, took in a long breath, and swung around the corner.

Two white robed figures were directly in front of him. He pounced on the closest. The act itself was simple, routine even. Weston had shown him numerous times during their CQC training. Klodre's leg hooked between the Yevonite's own two legs, and then Klodre pushed against the man's shoulder with his own, forcing the young guard to fall onto his back. Klodre's right leg came down on the man's left wrist, crushing the small bones within. The guard's grip on his rifle loosened immediately, and without a second's hesitation, Klodre jabbed his blade into the guard's throat, serrated edge down. He dug deep, pushed forward, and then pulled out to the left, severing the windpipe and jugular vein of the guard, leaving the poor soul bleeding out and gurgling; his last moments of life spent wondering what in the hell just happened.

Klodre sprang up, wiped his blade on the side of his fatigues and turned to where the other guard had been. The guard, however, was no longer standing. He was lying in almost the same position as Klodre's target, throat open and bleeding. Behind him, Acua laughed very softly.

"You're too slow."

Klodre grunted and sheathed his blade, throwing his rifle over his shoulder and back into his arms. He trudged on, Acua following close behind. The two stopped when the path's barren rock walls became a lush forest. They could see Bevelle a few hundred meters ahead. Acua jerked her head towards the forest, and Klodre nodded in confirmation. They both would be safer in the wooded area beside the path than on the path. They had learned the first day that the longest path was the best path.

The only enemy they had to worry about in the wooded area was the insects, who, sensing the low lying sun, had become frenzied, trying to gather pollen before the sun completely set. Acua was not too pleased with this, but did not let her qualms be known. Onward they trudged until Klodre held his fist into the air, causing Acua to stop dead in her tracks. Slowly, his fist turned into a flat, stretched hand. His arm cocked forward, hand now flat parallel with the ground and pushing down towards it. Acua immediately dropped to the ground, unfolded her bipod, and pressed the gun's butte firmly against her shoulder. Her breath slowed, cheek pressing against the M8's cheek plate, eye only a few centimeters from the scope. She had not taken notice of Klodre, who had done just the same as her.

Through her scope, she quickly identified four targets, all white-robed Yevonite guards. They were standing at the wide open front gate, chatting, smoking, and having a generally good time. She drew her crosshair onto the head of the smoking guard, who was leaning against the stone wall next to the gate, listening to the others. She pulled the trigger and the young man dropped slowly against the wall. Her gun made little to no sound. The sound it _did_ make was just now reaching the guards, and to them, it must've not been important, because they continued to mill about, not even noticing their crouched comrade and the blood and brain matter splattered against the wall only a few feet from their own heads. She drew another bead, this time on the center of attention. Acua knew if she were to take him out, the rest would most certainly notice.

She heard two clicks and through her scope, she saw the two guards around the center of attention already falling to the ground. Admittedly, Klodre was a better shot than she. It took only a few seconds for the center of attention to notice and he quickly turned around, looking at his comrades, sickened and confused looks fighting for the right to claim his countenance. Acua quickly dispatched the center of attention.

Seeing no other immediate threats to their progress through her scope, Acua moved from her prone position to a crouched one, removing her magazine and shoving two shells from her right-knee pocket into it. She held the magazine release open and slowly eased the magazine back into its home, releasing the magazine catch even slower. Weston had taught them all the usefulness of being silent. Satisfied, she tugged on the magazine and found it snugly in place. Klodre was already looking at her, rifle ready.

"You're too slow," he mouthed.

She stuck out her tongue and they continued forth, stopping at the wall next to the gate. If they were going to make it to the tower without being seen, they were no longer going to get the chance to stop and make a sweep of an area. They'd just have to move and move fast, making sure not to make too much noise on the way. It was more than a daunting task, Klodre felt. It was damn near impossible, as far as he was concerned, but if Weston said it could be done, then it must be doable.

They took in very deep breaths, slung their rifles over their backs, and continued.

**Phase 1 - continued**

"They're taking too long," Chappu chirped from behind me. I held up a finger and he grunted. I turned and gave him a stare. He made no further noise.

Indeed, they _were_ taking longer than I had expected, seeing as they were so gifted with the rifles. Still, I was going to give them the benefit of the doubt and not rush the rest of the squad's job.

We were all crouched behind some purple and blue bushes. Yes, purple and blue. And I'm sure we stuck out like a sore thumb, but the two guards at the gate a few feet away weren't noticing. They were too busy cavorting. Apparently, those left over to guard Bevelle were not exactly the best and brightest of the bunch.

I could literally feel the tension from the rest of the squad behind me, almost pushing me to do something. I honestly didn't want to budge, not even when the two guards fell. I'd been out of action for quite a while, and Eimour had softened me so much that I was finding my own heart conflicting with my thoughts. This was dangerous.

With a violent shake of my head, I pulled back the receiver of my carbine, and the moment it slammed a cartridge into the chamber, the two guards at the gate dropped almost simultaneously.

The rest of the squads chambered their first round of the night and we advanced in a large flanking formation, the tip being myself, the curved portion consisting of the Explosives and Support teams. Nooj was to my right, Narr to my left, and Chappu to Narr's left. We slinked along the left side of the path, sweeping left and right. The town was nearly dead as far as activity was concerned. Dusk only had a few more moments of life and because of the taller structures in the city, long, dark shadows covered the landscape, broken up every two hundred feet or so by torches lighting the pathways.

Seeing no immediate opposition, we sped up, covering more ground. We were at the tower's base and I hadn't even broken a sweat or generated enough adrenaline to even feel my pulse in my forehead. In a way, I was glad. I was also slightly disappointed. Well, at least my body was.

I jogged to the top of the tower and met Acua halfway towards the center of the deck. She nodded to me, but didn't salute, thankfully. I nodded back and asked, "Simple enough?"

"Very. They left the barracks in a mess. Looks like the soldiers were all called away very quickly."

Klodre joined her side and nodded, reaching into his top pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of parchment and handed it to me. I scanned the document. The message dug deep into my brain, but I just didn't have the time or honestly, the will power to process it.

"They're making an offensive move _tonight_. Tonight, sir."

"I know that, Klodre."

"We've got to warn Gatta."

"Yes, I know," I replied with a nod. Duh. I called out, "Nonu, get up here!"

A minute or so later, Nonu was jogging towards me. "Yes, sir?" he asked, not panting at all.

"Call Gatta's HQ."

"But sir, we're not evacuating yet, are we?"

I shook my head. "Just call them, please."

He nodded and opened the heavy satchel, pulling the small device out. Quickly, he input a code and the device lit up. Shortly, I heard Gatta's voice come over the speaker.

"Yes?" he asked curtly. Nonu said, "Cemahd Jahkayhla calling for Gatta."

"Speaking. What does Weston want?"

I smirked as Nonu handed me the device. "Got some bad news, bud."

"Do you _ever_ have good news, Weston?"

"Oh, I do have some of that."

I could hear him chuckle on the other end. "Yeah, and what's that?"

"We're in Bevelle and Nyka's shitting his pants. I mean, it stinks, man, seriously."

Again, Gatta chuckled. "Right. What's the bad news, then?"

"Nyka's about to send a whole crap load of bad guys your way. We're talking an hour at most."

"Wonderful. I'll mobilize as best I can. The only thing we can do is dig in and fight it."

I nodded, to no one in particular. "Obviously. From what this piece of paper says, it's going to be nearly ten thousand men followed by some Chocobo mounted attacks on your left line, near the edge of the cliff. They're going to be shelling the headquarters position with something they call," and I reread the paper to make sure of the name, "'bouncy bombs.' I'm guessing they've concocted some new stuff for this offensive. Be prepared for anything."

Only silence came from his end. I continued.

"My teams may be able to slow the offensive, if we haul ass and neglect to bomb the munitions store here in Bevelle. Time is short here."

Again, silence, but I could here him sighing. Obviously, this was a big decision for him, and I could tell he didn't like having to make it. Sorry, Gatta, but this was in your hands. I couldn't make the decision.

After a few more moments, he came back on. "Alright, get a move on and try to stop that offensive. I'd rather them have a munitions dump in Bevelle and a failed offensive to take Mt. Gagazet than no munitions dump and a clear road all the way to Zanarkand."

I nodded. "We'll get right on it."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

I handed the communicator back to Nonu and he buried it into his satchel. "Nonu, tell the others to meet me on the first floor." He nodded and left curtly. "Klodre, Acua, excellent work. But we're not done yet."

Acua smiled. "Not by a long shot."

Klodre nodded in agreement.

The Recon team and I made our way down the stairs and to the rest of the squad, who had taken up residence in the mess hall on the first floor of the tower. They were all standing, and I wasn't about to tell them to sit. I had to make this briefing fast.

"Ok, change of plans guys. We're not bombing the munitions dump here." No one said anything or showed any sign of dismay so I continued, after tossing New Yevon's orders to mobilize for the offensive on the table. "The Yevonites are mobilizing tonight for a large scale offensive against the Crusader and Al Bhed lines at the foot of Mt. Gagazet. They're preempting their strike, which means they've made plenty of mistakes. It's now our job to exploit them."

They all simply nodded, even Chappu, who I would've thought would've said something cocky. He only looked stoic and was obviously hanging on every word I was saying.

"Guys, it is imperative that we slow, stall, or even stop this offensive. As you can see from those orders, ten thousand Yevonite soldiers are going to be descending upon the lines, plus a brigade of Chocobo-mounted forces, and shelling from what I believe to be a new weapon New Yevon have concocted just for this operation of theirs. We have _got_ to stop this. The artillery from the Al Bhed and the reinforcements from Luca aren't scheduled to arrive at the line until tomorrow afternoon. Gatta and his men are armor less. They will not survive an operation of this size."

Chappu raised his hand. "Sir. We know. What's the plan?"

I blinked, but nodded. I had gotten long-winded. Maybe Chappu wasn't such an ass after all. Or maybe he just wanted to take control of the situation. Who knows? Who cares?

I leaned forward and brought out my map of the Yevonite encampment out. "This munitions dump is going to have to go, and when it does go, it'll go big, thanks to those new bombs the orders referred to. Recon team, you will still do the same thing. But this time, you're not providing cover fire for the Assault and Explosives teams. Since this is a large ground force, I'm sure there will be a briefing tent or some sort of area where the troops will be gathered. Take them out."

Acua raised her hand. "We don't have ten thousand bullets between us, sir."

I sighed. "I know that. Take as many of them out as you can. If there's someone briefing them, or someone whose robe is more colorful, take him out first. _First_. Destroy the chain of command, destroy cohesion."

Klodre and Acua nodded.

Acua asked, "And what if we run out of bullets?"

I looked at both of them hard. "Bust out your pistols and help us."

Again, they nodded.

I turned my attention to Fedra and Joli. "Fedra, blow the munitions dump. Joli, blow the entire Chocobo stable."

"The whole thing?" she asked.

I nodded once. "The whole thing." I then turned my attention to the Support team. "You will join the Assault team with me. We're going to take out the command area, here." I tapped my index finger on a round tent. "This is where their orders come from. We're going to wipe out anything that moves. I don't care if it doesn't shoot back; empty that tent." I could feel my heartbeat in my temple and the blood rushing to my face. All bets were off. I was in the zone.

**No Bold Move Goes Unpunished**

Acua and Klodre quickly climbed up the cliff and to their designated sniping point. Immediately, I heard their guns clicking away. We didn't have much time. The three remaining squads ran double time up the path and along the back of the camp. I could hear a ruckus already starting. Klodre and Acua were hitting their marks. One upset and battle-ready Yevonite ran up to us yelling "The Infantry Commander's dead!"

Nooj thanked him for this information with a face full of lead. We continued in an all out sprint to our designated areas. Joli had already entered the Chocobo stables. I could hear all of the birds' scared squawking as the rest of us continued, the command tent not far away. We passed the munitions dump and Fedra made a hard right to enter his target.

The command tent was afire with activity, papers shuffling, couriers going between desks at an alarming rate. And not one of the officers or couriers noticed us. Until we started shooting, that is.

There's one thing I would've never thought I'd participate in, and that was murder. But in the moment, killing the unarmed commanders (and a couple of summoners, according to what I made out from Iddio's yelling) seemed like a very good idea. Maybe I was angry. More than likely, I just didn't care. This was my job; killing. And I was proficient at it. Get over it.

We all reloaded and looked at our deed. And it was a dirty deed indeed. I quickly counted the bodies, but stopped when I reached twenty-three, because I heard two very large explosions. Fedra and Joli had come through. We all exited the tent and were met with a wall of soldiers. Spraying -and praying- like crazy, we formed a fighting-v formation and booked it back towards where all the flames and smoke were licking the sky. The camp was, by now, in absolute chaos. With most of their commanding officers dead, dying, or wounded, the soldiers had no idea what to do, but I could see small, organized pockets of them starting to catch on. That wasn't good. Not good at all. Soon, they'd spread the word and the small pockets would turn into large ones.

Around the same time I was thinking this, I failed to notice that my fighting-v had turned into a limping-J. Iddio and Nonu were on the ground a few feet behind us. I turned to go back and get them, but I could tell immediately that they'd never get up again. Great. Wonderful. Just what I needed. Thanks.

I grabbed the steel-lined satchel that was hooked to what was left of Nonu and tugged. The back of the pack was still connected, but it easily slid through...I won't go there. The satchel was intact, just like a black box, though it was covered in less-than-appealing substances. No matter, it had something I needed in it. I slung the soggy thing over my shoulder and continued on with the Assault squad. It was then that I noticed that one of Nooj's legs was covered in blood.

"Can you walk?" I yelled at him over the noise.

"I'm running, sir!" he responded.

I shrugged and we continued towards the path leading to the aqueduct's exit. Too bad more of those explosions were happening. That, and those pockets of soldiers were doing their job. They were now very large pockets, all firing at us. I felt two slugs dig into my back and come out of my stomach. I was still running though, so I'd deal with that pain later. Narr was now taking point and firing away, acting like Rambo. Good for him.

We began to encounter even harder resistance, but they kept dropping like flies and I had no clue as to why. Was the Assault team that good? Then I remembered: Recon team. They were still firing away, but unlike my orders, they were covering for us as best they could. At the mouth of the path, Narr took a slug to the head. Apparently, unlike Rambo, Narr the veteran was not immune to bullets. Neither was I. Or Nooj. Or anyone else, for that matter.

I felt yet another slug say hello to me, this time just between those two bones in my forearm. My pinky finger on my right hand immediately went limp. Excellent, just what I'd always wanted. A torn tendon or two!

Blood was liberally pouring from me now. I was a regular plasma fountain. And I think the blood loss was making me loopy. Nah. Totally not. The grip of my rifle was slipping from all the blood in my palm and I knew that, soon, I'd lose it, so I tossed the thing to Chappu. He blinked, but I raised my blood soaked arm and he nodded. The weapons were light enough, so he carried mine in his left, his in his right, and Chappu took over the Rambo duties.

Once we limped back to the aqueduct, the chaos of the camp behind us, looming ever larger, Acua slid down the side of the small outcropping she had been sniping from, pistol in hand, yelling to us that Klodre had been taken out, and looking at us like we were the lost boys or something. Of course, the moment she came to help us, a Yevonite slug tore through her chest and exited her back. Chappu growled and just as I was about to topple over, he dropped his weapons and dragged me, as well as the now severely injured Acua back towards the exit of the aqueduct, leaning us against a tree in a small outcrop of forest. I saw him run back, pick up his two rifles, and then he started charging the masses of soldiers, Nooj along side him, guns-a-blazin'. I heard two booms to the left of me and I saw that the Yevonites were sending those bouncy bomb things onto their own town. Smart ones, they were. I guess they thought my squad was a whole battalion and we were just piling in from their own holy city. Hopefully, they'd hit their own munitions dump, since I had failed to do so myself earlier in the evening.

And then, back propped against a tree, my very life's blood spilling onto the ground -it must've really been my night-, Acua awoke to her plight and pain.

"Ahhh," she yelled in a defeated and piercing wail that pained me to my very bones. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die." By her third "die" her mouth was filling with blood. Soon, every time she hit a "d" she sprayed my face with her own saliva and blood. I slid my hand to her own and gripped it, the only finger not curling being my pinky. This seemed to calm her for the time being.

"Weston..." she began. "I don't want to die." Splatter.

"I know."

"I mean it. I don't want to die." More splatter.

I gripped her hand tighter. She replied with such a strong grip, my pinky actually moved, I think. "I know. You're not going to die, Acua."

"Yes. Yes, I am, damnit." Even more splatter. Her voice was getting weaker, as was her grip.

"No, no you're not."

"Yes...yes...I..." and her hand fell limp.

Shit.

**The Letter and The Charm**

So there I was, sitting against a tree, slowly bleeding out, a dead woman's hand in my own, most of my squad wiped out. Chappu and Nooj were cavorting with the enemy with their triple-barreled dance of stupidity. Those guys were always brash in training. Narr, Iddio, Nonu, Acua, Klodre all dead. Fedra and Joli unaccounted for.

I reached into my top pocket and withdrew Eimour's letter and chain. I tried to focus on the etching on the charm and could barely make it out. I shook my head a couple of times and then my vision cleared.

"I doubt not, for I am loved."

My eyes then blurred again and my left hand, also now covered in blood, lost grip of the chain. It fell to the ground. My eyes stung sharply, and a few tears welled in my ducts. I was going to account that to Acua's blood covering my face, though I knew better. I blinked the tears away and let go of her hand. Haphazardly, I unfolded the letter. Thankfully, Emmy's handwriting was just a degree shy of perfect, so I had no problem reading what the letter said.

_Weston, _

_I know not where or when you're going to be able to read this. I know you have your duty and you feel that being a soldier is all you will ever be...but let me tell you that you should _not_ limit yourself to that. You've been an excellent companion and an even better...dare I say it, _father_ for Gary._

_I can't count the times he's called you Daddy. Neither can you, I'm sure. When I tuck him in, he asks me "When is Daddy going to remarry Mommy," and I just smile and think of how wonderful you are. Only a superior man can gain Gary's trust so firmly._

_I've realized something I should've realized ages ago, from the first day you went out of your way to save us and offered us your home. Something that's been eating away at me inside ever since that kiss the night the training started. _

_I _savor_ that kiss at every free moment. Every time I close my eyes I feel your lips pressed to mine, your firm grip in my lower back...the protected feeling I get when around you is boosting my confidence like never before. I have _friends_ now, in the village. I help out in the tapestry huts. Gary plays with the other children in the village. I don't need to worry about food._

_I have a life now, and it's all thanks to you._

I flipped the page over, the words sinking deep into me, despite my fading consciousness. My bloody fingerprints were etched through the paper, making it tougher for me to read. I brought the letter closer to my face, and was able to make out the rest.

_I love you, Charles. I love you like I've never loved before. I've never felt such a confidence in my feelings...such confidence in a man...in my self, even. You complete me. I don't want you lying dead on a battlefield. I want you here, in my arms. I want you here._

_Be careful. Come back to me. That's an order._

_Yours, completely, _

_Emmy_

I dropped the now soggy letter and let my tears flow freely. If only I had read this letter before going off, I'd be safe, in her arms, instead of dying on this pseudo-battlefield.

Charles Weston had fucked up. I could at least see if I'd done what I had come to do. I opened the satchel that had been shoved, literally, into Nonu, and extracted the clean, modern looking communicator and looked for a redial button. There wasn't one, of course, and the letters on the damn thing were in Al Bhed. Great. I thumbed a green button on the left of some kind of screen and was surprised to hear someone pick up.

I barely managed, "Weston here. Calling for EVAC."

"Weston? You're calling _me_ for EVAC?" It was Gatta.

"Yeah," I coughed out. "I am. I'm bleeding out under a tree somewhere north of Bevelle."

"Right. Weston, lying defeated under a tree? Sure, I believe you. Stop kidding man, we've been looking at the Yevonite line and it's scrambling like a bee hive. You did it. The offensive isn't coming. I'm surprised they're not retreating."

I smirked to myself. "Yeah, great. Glad I could help."

"Thanks. Now call Yuna's HQ for that EVAC and get your squad some drinks at the lodge. Put it on my tab."

I laughed. "You don't drink anything but Kilika ale, Gatta."

"Still, tell em I'm buying."

"I'll be sure to send most of the drinks to the Farplane or whatever the hell that place is."

Gatta stayed silent for a moment. "Stop kidding around. I'll see you when you guys get here on the line. You've got plenty of warring to do, bud."

I laughed, thinking to myself that my warring days were growing very short. "Yeah, see you soon." I bashed the communicator against the tree and let the pieces fall to the ground.

Again, I must say: Shit.

--------------

A/N: Merry Christmas. I got inspired, you guys got a gift. Enjoy.

Tons 'o love to Shad for the beta.

Tons 'o love to the music that provided the backdrop to writing this chapter.

Seriously, the first two segments of this thing sat gathering dust while I mulled over changing my plot ONCE AGAIN. It was horrible, Jave will tell you about it. Something about a prophecy and a trifecta of lost souls. I'm glad I canned that thing after a few MONTHS of work on it. I like my original chapter 23 plan, the one you've just read, better. Not too long left now. Here's hoping I find inspiration like I had for this chapter for the rest of them.

No 0ne


	24. Chapter 24: A Letter Home

Chapter 25: A Letter Home

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_Promise me you will wakeup.  
You saved my life and that's all I need.  
Just don't leave me now; don't quit on me now.  
You were all I had; you are all I need._

- From "Pity" by The Acacia Strain

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Gatta peered over the densely unkempt hill, the sun's rays long hidden by the gray miasma. The ground was littered with bodies and burned out artillery and other destroyed weaponry. He then looked to his wounds, remembering where each had come from, two of them fresh and bleeding from this, the final battle.

The weapon in his hand was hot from being fired so many times. It surprised him that it hadn't jammed. As he fired the last shot into the ground, its empty magazine being shot from the chamber by a spring mechanism, he smirked. "I suppose Al-Bhed ingenuity has outdone even the finest blade ever forged..."

"We done here?" It was Chappu, who Gatta had last seen before the red-haired man went off to lead the fight for Bevelle.

"Looks that way."

"Didn't expect so much...trouble out of the Yevonites in Bevelle. They fought valiantly but we overcame."

"Their own damn fault for being so blind."

"Think this'll ever happen again?"

"I doubt we'll have much more fighting to do against any Yevonites, if that's what you mean. So the city is secure?"

"Yup."

"And Nyka?"

"Tidus and company took care of him. They infiltrated the temple from the rear entrance, the one that leads back to Macalania. Sent his ass to the Farplane, finally. Fagan went with him."

Gatta nodded. "So Tidus is staying? Is he..._real_ this time?"

"Yeah, I'd say he's real."

"So where does that leave you?"

"Auron and I will be returning, hopefully to a more benign Braska. Wasn't very happy with us when we left."

A smirk fell across Gatta's face. "I imagine not."

"I'm going to go say my goodbyes to everyone. We're leaving shortly. So, it's been a pleasure, man. I'll see you when you finally bite it."

"Might be a while." Gatta laughed, nodding. "I'll see you Chappu. And thanks...thanks for your help."

"No prob, bob," Chappu replied with a smile. He turned and left, letting Gatta's thoughts float forward to his other friend and whether or not a man from another world could actually be sent to the Farplane.

They had found Weston after the battle for the Calm Lands had quieted down. He had still been perched against the tree he was propped against the night before. Blood littered the ground around him, his eyes wide open but very dull. In his right hand was a blood stained letter from Eimour. Gatta had read it, and was now carrying it in his right pocket. He'd return it to her with his condolences once he could grab an airship back to Besaid.

The soldier Gatta had looked up to and had been friends with, was now gone. Weston, who had survived so much and done so much against the Yevonites, was now merely a lifeless body stacked high in a pile. The mass sending would commence as soon as Yuna was done in Bevelle.

Gatta sighed and left the hill. He'd have plenty of time to think once he was back in Besaid.

-----------

Chappu walked alongside Auron, who had been waiting for him at the bottom of the hill Gatta had been atop.

"Are you ready?" he asked the young red head.

"As much as I'll ever be. Not looking forward to confronting Braska, but might as well."

Auron nodded. "There is one more thing I must do before I return to Braska."

"Oh?" asked Chappu, interest piqued.

"Yes, and I'm not telling you. You go ahead of me, I'll be back shortly."

"So you want me to face Braska alone, do you?"

Auron smiled. "It'll be a good learning experience."

Chappu stared at the gruff face indignantly. "Asshole."

Auron smirked and shrugged the insult off. He walked forward and around Chappu. When Chappu turned to yell another insult at him, Auron had already vanished.

"Major asshole." Chappu muttered under his breath.

-----------

I woke to the sound of birds chirping and the creaking of wind-blown branches. At first, I thought I was still on the hill, with the dead bodies of my comrades surrounding me. Then, my head began to clear and I realized that birds would be nowhere near a battlefield.

My vision came to me in spurts. I'd open my eyes, and then immediately close them. The light was too harsh at first, but after a few dozen blinks, I could distinctly make out the tops of trees.

Next of my senses to return was olfactory in nature. The familiar and despised smell of rotten flesh and fire filled my nostrils so quickly I nearly vomited. But there was another smell: charred metal.

I had no recollection of being anywhere near the remains of the camp nor the actual battlefield itself. I knew the mission had been an utter failure. Almost everyone was dead because of me.

After a few moments of breathing in the putrid odors and staring at the beautiful sunlight coming down through the canopy of treetops, I decided to move my eyes. I flicked them to the left and only caught more forest stretching out to a seemingly endless degree; nothing but trees and underbrush. I flicked them to the right and caught a rotted face staring back at me.

Not much flesh was left on the face, just a few blackened strips spread about, no eyes, just the hollow cavities they sit in. Like all corpses this decomposed, it had an almost smiling expression and its head was turned facing me. The hair was still attached to the skull. It was black in color, might've been a dark brown before decomposition, and long.

A slight, almost inaudible groan escaped my lips and I tried to turn my head. The muscles in my neck were very weak, and on the first few tries, my head didn't turn at all. Following those tries, my head moved only a few centimeters in each direction. When the muscles finally started working properly, my head lolled to the right and back a bit. It was then that I saw another corpse, this one smaller in stature. The hair was dark, almost black, though it had some brown mixed in. I assumed this was a child. I then felt a pang of something in the back of my head and my eyes squinted. A few tears flowed from them and I couldn't explain why. I had no connection to these corpses, as far as I could remember, yet I started crying. I didn't have a clue as to who they had been.

But the tears came nonetheless, maybe out of some hidden emotional connection to the corpses, or perhaps a subconscious effort to keep my brain from coming up with any possible scenarios that could have led me to the situation I was in.

The thoughts were a bit too late. There I sat in the mangled car, face slick with tears, trying to figure out where I was, what I was doing there, and who the corpses were. I knew that when I'd lost consciousness the last time, I had been atop a hill overlooking the Calm Lands and the battle ensuing there.

The scenario of the mission went over and over in my head. I knew that it was silly of me to try to rationalize another reason for its failure. My mistakes and misguided hopes were at fault. The team did their best, I just couldn't lead them. Also didn't help that I rushed it to fruition when we probably needed at least another good two to three months planning.

But we didn't have two to three months. We had a month to five weeks at best, because the Yevonites had been knocking at Mt. Gagazet's front door and the only thing to stop them was a force of Crusaders that was grossly outnumbered.

There were many questions swimming to and fro in my mind as I sat there, staring into the canopy of trees, my eyes stinging from the aftereffects of my crying. Did Rikku get the artillery there in time? Did Chappu ever make it to Gatta's camp? Did the Yevonites regroup and overrun Gatta's troops?

I groaned aloud, hands coming to cradle my face. My fingers wiped at the sticky remains of tear trails on my cheeks to little avail. With a heavy sigh, I decided to try my legs. They moved surprisingly well, though somewhat sluggish. Slowly, I used my thighs to turn my body ninety degrees clockwise. My feet landed on the ground with a dull thud. A cloud of dust rose a foot or so above the patchy ground.

I placed my hands on either side of the doorway -to which no door was attached- and pushed forward, almost falling face-first in the dirt. I caught myself with a well placed grab at a nearby sapling. Pulling backwards on the sapling, I righted my upper body and found balance until the sapling uprooted and I fell back against the mangled vehicle.

My back impacted with what felt like the upper jamb of the doorway, though it felt a bit too prevalent and after pushing myself back off of the car, I turned to face it. The upper jamb was bent in such a way that where I landed was actually more like a spear than a doorway. But I felt no pain and no blood was on the bent metal nor was it running down my back. I twisted an arm back and placed it where I had felt the pressure from the metal. There was no wound.

Yet more worry filled my mind. Where the hell was I? And for that matter, what was I doing there? I shook my head and closed my eyes, sighing again. I was really starting to wonder.

"Can't get hurt. Dead people in a wrecked car. I don't know where I am or why I'm here." I said aloud, just to get out of my head. Of course, no answer came. The only sounds I heard were normal forest sounds. Birds, a light wind sifting through the tree branches, the occasional chirp or breaking twig or creaking tree trunk.

To better assess things, I began really looking at my surroundings, trying to find landmarks that could point me in the right direction. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was no longer in Spira. In my time in Spira, I had never seen so much as a car or truck or anything of the nature. It was all airship, sea ship, or walk. Period. With that knowledge, I knew I was no longer in the same world I had been earlier. And, I guessed, this was more than likely Earth, my world, where cars were in great abundance. That being said, the fact that I was back on earth did not comfort me at all. I wanted to be in Spira. I wanted to get back to Eimour. I wanted to see Gary again. I wanted to see Nyka get his.

After a few moments of angered confusion, I decided to get back to checking out my surroundings. Though I was clueless, I thought that if I could really look around, I might be able to at least place myself on a map...even though I didn't have one. The forest floor was pretty sparsely grassed, probably due to the trees hogging all of the sunlight. But the grass that was there was mostly a dull green to a light brown. Patches of dirt and mud were everywhere in the sparse grass, and not many weeds or bushes inhabited the place either. The trees were tall, pine and oak, and they smelled wonderful. The leaves on the trees were a vibrant green. The air was thin and cool. I surmised a guess that the time of year was somewhere in the area of spring.

I then circled the car, trying to find a marking or license plate that could give me a clue as to where I was. The mangled car held no markings but I knew it was a four door sedan and that the driver's side was on the left. However, that didn't really mean much. A lot of countries used left-side drive configurations. I grunted when I found the license plate. It was sheared beyond recognition. I couldn't make out anything on the front, just that it was white with a little bit of blue and brown mixed in. Didn't mean anything to me.

-----------

Dear Mom,

The building is coming great! I'm just glad Ms. Rikku let me join up even though I'm only 16. She keeps telling me about how she was doing all this stuff like adventuring and the like when she was my age. Makes me feel like I haven't lived life to its fullest!

Look, I know you worry, but we're using some really safe stuff out here. Most the heavy lifting is Machina done. I'm mostly helping out with crane operations (so cool!) and cleaning up litter and stuff around the build site.

I saw some of the artifacts today. They had Dad's weapon there. It still had blood on it. I won't lie and say I didn't tear up. I miss him, even if I don't really remember him that much. I know you do too.

Gatta tells me all these stories from when Dad was around. It would be so cool to know him now. He sounds like a cool guy! Gatta asked me just the other day if you say anything about him and he was surprised to hear you do. I dunno what he thought you'd do, keep it all inside I guess. He didn't even know some of the stories you know about Dad. So I was able to give him just as much information as he gave me! I felt so grown up!

The other day, one of the curators for the museum came by to check up on the building and I got to ask him some questions. Just gonna run this stuff by you since it's news to me!

I asked him first how it ended. He told me how Tidus had come with this special stone that is able to ensnare a soul. This other guy, named Fagan, helped by being the gateway to open the stone and allow for that evil guy Nyka's soul to be trapped. Sucks that Fagan chose to be trapped in there too.

Then I asked about how Dad died. I'm sorry mom, I just had to know.

The last question I asked was whether any form of Yevon still existed. He didn't know but he did say that most of the Yevonites still left alive dropped their religion. That's a good thing, I guess.

Funny that not many people really talk about the war. I guess it's just too soon. I'm really fascinated by it though. Guess that's why I chose to help build the memorial and museum. I want to learn all I can about the war and how Dad was involved.

-----------

I woke to the sound of birds chirping and the creaking of wind-blown branches. At first, I thought I was still on the hill, with the dead bodies of my comrades surrounding me. Then, my head began to clear and I realized that birds would be nowhere near a battlefield.

My eyes were crusted shut. Out of reflex, my hands shot to my eyes to clear them. After a vigorous rub down, my eyes open easily. I was still in the forest. I don't remember leaning against a tree and falling asleep but that was apparently what I must have done.

"Nice to see you're awake. I suppose death can exhaust a person."

I blinked and looked around madly, trying to find the source for the voice. "Hello?"

"Hey there."

"A...Auron?" I thought I could recognize the voice.

"Darn, you got me." And at that, the tall graying man appeared right in front of me out of seemingly nowhere.

"So I'm dead," I said, looking him in the sunglasses.

"I guess you could say that. Your life in this world ended a year ago." As if in explanation, he motioned towards the wrecked car. "We made a grave mistake, Charles."

"What do you mean?" I asked, standing up and pushing off of the tree. I walked a few feet towards Auron.

"When we took your...soul I suppose you could call it...we never realized that you had survived that day with that murderer. We were under the impression you had perished at the hand of that man."

"You mean...that dream..." I blinked and shook my head, trying to remember the frequent dreams I had of the cornfield and that horrid man.

"Charles, we were inexperienced. We hadn't a clue as to how to get Tidus back to Yuna. But Braska wanted his little girl to be happy...so...we experimented, grabbing dead souls and trying to reincarnate them. You were our first success and our last experiment."

"Wait," I said, raising a hand. "You mean to tell me you grabbed my...soul thinking I was already dead and then brought me back to life on Spira?"

Auron nodded. "It worked with you. Braska wanted to try something else. Since a reincarnated soul has no conscious memory of its previous life, we had to find a way to create those memories for the reincarnation...and you were our first success..."

"And last experiment, yeah, I know. So all of that...everything I remember from childhood on...military training...that mission in China...Columbia, all of it..."

"Fake, yes," Auron replied, head falling slightly. "We grabbed multiple memories from some of the other souls gathered and manufactured our own, namely the mission in China."

I sighed, feeling the anger beginning to surge. "Great. Just great. I don't know what's real, I don't know what's fake. But...Was Eimour even real...Gary? Is the love I feel for them fake?" My voice was beginning to rise in intensity. I could feel an immense heat beginning to rise in my face and my fists clenched into tight balls. My self control was on edge.

"No." Auron said. "Those feelings are real. They are the reason you are here. You've got a choice to make, Charles."

This took me by surprised. "Wh...what?" I stuttered.

"When we took your soul, we did not realize that it still inhabited a body in your world. As a consequence, your body was left empty. You had been driving a car in a rural area with you wife and small son. Without a soul, you could no longer control your body. The car careened off of the road and into this remote area. Everyone died."

"What? You mean, you not only took me but killed two other people?"

"Not just two people. Your wife and child, Weston."

"But I never knew them..."

"And Braska is genuinely sorry for that. So in repayment, you have the option of starting over. We can place you back into your body the day after your parents' murder. You'll essentially have a new life to live."

"Will I...remember...you know...Spira?"

"No. You will remember nothing. That is our gift to you; a somewhat clean slate."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot." I said, shaking my head. After a few moments of very confused thought, I asked, "What's the other option?" I made sure I gave Auron a piercing glare.

"Well," he said, stepping forward. "We send you back to Spira."

"Well there we go. Decision made. I'll just go back," I said, nodding.

"But...there's a catch," he said gruffly, eyes peeking from the top of his sunglasses.

I sighed. "Isn't there always? What is it?"

-----------

Gatta sighed and got up from his desk. A private was waiting on his inspection of the new recruits but Gatta really wasn't in the mood. He had been looking through some of the battle plans and schematics he had worked up with Weston. Unlike many of his underlings, Gatta remembered the war all too well. He remembered the cost of life on both sides...and the cost of yet another of his best friends in battle.

He knew too that he'd likely not live to see another strong friendship formed amongst battle. Being the top brass of the Crusaders, now the protectors of a fully united Spira, meant Gatta would never again get to truly glimpse any form of battle or conflict. All of that was going to be left to the men training inside the Crusader compound.

Gatta also knew that he was more than likely going to stay a single man. He was only a few years from hitting forty and there was no prospect of a relationship whatsoever. Wakka had Lulu and Tidus had Yuna. Rikku had...whoever the hell that Al Bhed guy was she had introduced Gatta to at the last fall festival. Gatta had married the Crusaders back at the end of Yuna's pilgrimage.

And Gatta missed Weston. Gatta missed war. Gatta missed holding a gun or sword and commanding men while under constant threat. He always found himself thinking back to the war and the people and the encounter. Yes, war was horrible but...for some reason, Gatta missed that camaraderie. That one-minded "let's get em" attitude that was so prevalent a mere ten years ago was almost gone. Nowadays, everyone was just minding their own business, not really trying to be a unit. All of the new cadets were in it for the prestige, little else. Just to serve with the army that took down New Yevon.

Gatta wondered what Weston would have done with his life after the war? True, Weston had Eimour and Gary to deal with, but still; Gatta pondered how such an impressive soldier as Weston could handle the civilian life. Would he go nuts or would he adapt accordingly? What kind of job would he hold?

Would Weston really trade in his guns for love?

"Well, what does it matter anyway?" Gatta said aloud, throwing his hands in the air. "He's dead."

"Really?"

Gatta hadn't even noticed his office door open. "What the fu-.."

-----------

"What do you mean it's been ten years!"

"Time flows faster in different worlds Charles," Auron said, voice beginning.

"Well excuse me for not knowing. Until now, I didn't even know most of my life was a fraud."

Auron ignored my outburst. "Regardless, it's either a whole new life or...back to Spira with a ten year delay."

Frustrated beyond measure, I closed my eyes and sighed. A whole new life or...a return to a life with Eimour and Gary. Ten years though...that's a long time.

"You don't have long, Charles. Step back into the ruined car to restart your life on Earth, or approach me and return to a life in Spira."

I growled loudly, not really at Auron but at myself. I had to make this decision. After a few silent moments, Auron clicked his tongue. I shot him a ferocious look and started pacing, mulling over the choices.

_Ten years_ one side of my brain kept saying while the other kept reminding me _you love her._ This continued for at least another five minutes. I could tell by Auron's stance that he was getting impatient, but to his credit he no longer tried to rush me with clicks of the tongue.

Another five minutes went by and I could tell Auron was on his last nerve.

"I think," I said, looking at him. "I've made my decision."

"Good. Get on with it."

I obliged his request.

-----------

Oh, and one more thing mom. While I was helping with the supply drops in the Lands today, I saw a guy eyeing Dad's memorial on the hill. You know the one, next to that big tree overlooking the battlefield? He looked kinda disoriented and kept asking me if the airship we were in would be going back to Besaid. I had to tell him no since Rikku doesn't allow commercial passengers, but I directed him to Bevelle, where there's plenty of airship terminals he can ride to Besaid.

I never quite saw a man looking this desperate mom. It kinda worried me. So I had one of our crew follow him, just to make sure he didn't do anything weird. According to Kelso (one of our crew) he had just enough Gil to cover the ticket to Besaid. No more, no less. Weird, huh?

Well, anyway, I'll end this for now. I know I ramble! Love you bunches and I'll see you when we're done in the Lands! This museum is going to look really nice when it's done! I'm just glad I can be apart of building it!

Love, always,

Gary

-----------

Authors Note: So there it is. The end. Four years to the day after it started. You're welcome.

Thanks go to the following songs for helping me get this thing wrapped up.

"Sink Fast Let Go" - Napalm Death _Smear Campaign  
_"Pixellate" - Devin Townsend Band _Synchestra  
_"Wrong Side" - Strapping Young Lad _The New Black  
_"Symbol of Decay" - Red Harvest _Internal Punishment Programs  
_"We Hold These Truths" - All Shall Perish _The Price of Existence  
_"Angry Mob Justice" - The Acacia Strain _The Dead Walk_

For the past year and a half, I have written, re-written, scrapped, brainstormed, and fought to get this chapter written. Ending this has been very troublesome and after sending ideas and possibilities to some close contacts, I've sort of melded all of my ideas into one. You've just read the result.

I hope you enjoyed it and if you feel that this chapter didn't answer enough or that AtS wasn't satisfactorily ended, feel free to write your own ending. I've written so many endings for this story I'm plum tired of doing it. Of course, you're welcomed to send any hate mail or indiscretions to me: tlozwarlock at yahoo dot com. Thanks to those of you left to read this!

No One


	25. A Letter to the Reader: The Sequel

March 28, 2008

The urge to return to the FFX world and its characters is too great for me to continue to ignore. My life, much as it was in 2002 when I started Akin to Sin, is at a transition point. I am one year from graduating college now, just as I was one year away from graduating high school in 2002. Though things are slightly different now (I'm engaged to be married, I've been published regionally, I'm trying to get published nationally) the yearning to return to the storyline I began in Akin to Sin is just as strong, if not more so, than when I ended Akin to Sin two years ago. There's more to tell and my mind can't leave it alone, as much as I've tried to. There is no fame, clout, or worldly worth to writing fanfiction aside from quieting the writer's ever-incessant imagination.

I am aware that Akin to Sin needs at least seven or eight chapters rewritten. That will most likely never occur. I've decided to move ahead with the sequel. The working title is "Akin to Sin 2" though that will certainly change. Plot elements are still being ironed out. If you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to email me: tlozwarlock at yahoo dot com

A final FYI: Dead characters will not be returning. New characters will therefore have to be created.

Thank you, dear reader.

No0ne


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